


Young and Doomed

by bumbleflight



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Eating Disorders, Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 59,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24900820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumbleflight/pseuds/bumbleflight
Summary: “So you took a shot to the ass and woke up in isolation, then what?” Frank asked, and Gerard chuckled.“I’ve never heard anyone put it that way before.”
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Young and Doomed

**Author's Note:**

> hey, thanks for reading!
> 
> trigger warning for anyone recovering from an eating disorder or other mental illness. brief mentions of self-harm and suicide.
> 
> a/n: it's very possible some chapters don't align. the full document of the fic was permanently deleted a few years back, and i had to scrap together the whole thing.

There were only so many ways your first day out of the hospital could go.

For Frank, it was pretty bad so far. To him, leaving intensive care and moving into a long term residential facility was about the same as out of the frying pan and into the fire. 

It wasn’t his first time wrestling through the system, either. However, it was his first time here, at Sodrick Pines, and Frank already knew he was going to hate it. The nurses were all old and blind, and the staff (or TAs) were about as useless as Frank being here. 

He’d asked one of them something snotty about the quality of bathrooms, and they’d told him they were surprised he could talk shit with a tube down his mouth. 

It was more down his nose  _ than _ his mouth, but whatever. Frank could admit he’d lost that one; he wasn’t delusional, like  _ some  _ people here were. 

Once again, his lovely insurance refused to cover specialized eating disorder treatment, and he’d been put into a psychiatric unit with all the other teenage idiots. He still had to eat his meals with the other ED patients on their (fancy, rich, privileged) floor. Sometimes he pretended that he was one of them and that he wouldn’t have to return to his crazy psych unit once the meal was over. But at this moment, staying here didn’t seem much better and Frank was glad he was able to get out of this depressing, tiny meeting room. It wasn’t even designed as a place to eat, for fucks sake. 

Sure, Frank had some problems with food, but he didn’t hear voices for fuck’s sake. The last place he’d been at, a girl had woken up every night, screaming. No one could get any sleep, and while Frank couldn’t stand the noise, he occasionally hoped she’d find help one day. It was hard on the receiving end, but he couldn’t imagine what it’d be like on the giving end.

Frank came prepared this time, with earplugs thick enough they could be considered bomb-proof. What he was still missing was a pair of ice cream-scoopers to rip out his eyes.

"Oh, _f_ _ uck this _ ." Frank sighed, leaning back in his chair. It was a ballsy move, really, openly cursing during a meal. But what were they going to do, kick him out? Frank couldn’t have asked for anything better.

A few heads turned his way, but the majority of the tiny lunchroom remained silent. With no surprise from Frank, a voice quickly cut in. "Are you done?" The table’s TA asked, and Frank pointedly looked in the other direction as she spoke. She had a droning voice that sounded like a thousand bees were in there, buzzing around. "I know your first meal here can be difficult, but we don't use words like that at the table. If you need to eat alone, someone can take you." 

“Could they buy me a drink, too?” Frank asked lazily, adjusting his shirt. “It’s been a long day, I could use one.”

The TA frowned, her jowls sinking down on her face. She reminded Frank of a bulldog and their long, slobbery mouths, always wanting to get their disgusting spit on you. “Are you always this rude?” She looked around the table. There were only a couple of kids in the whole room, so it only took a few moments to do so. “Which one of you is his roommate? Can you talk some sense into this boy?”

Someone across the table laughed awkwardly, and Frank grinned. It had been said as a joke, but he was laughing for other reasons. There were no boys in the refeeding unit, so if he ever lived with these girls he’d get a room to himself. Also, his roommate (who he had yet to meet) didn’t live on this floor. Frank hoped they’d get along, but supposed he could survive if they didn’t

A sudden commotion in the small room snapped Frank back to attention. Someone was knocking at the door, and the TA heaved a labored sigh, hauling herself up from the seat and cracking open the door. “We’re busy,” Frank heard her mumble. He didn’t know what she was lowering her voice for - everyone was straining to eavesdrop, anyway.

"Frank? Is there a Frank Iero in here?" The door was forced open a bit, and Frank craned his head to catch a glance of the guy at the door. He looked young enough to be another patient, but then again, some of the staff came straight out of med school.

"Yeah." Frank stood up cautiously, making himself seen before sitting back down. The hell did this guy want? Was he a doctor? 

"Gerard, you need to leave,  _ now _ ." The bulldog TA growled, clenching her fist around the doorknob. She seemed to know him well, as they were on a first name basis. The boy, Gerard, ignored her completely, looking around the room. "Wow." He exclaimed, grinning at the patients in there. "There's a lot more of you here since the last time I was in this room.”

“Who is that?” Frank elbowed the girl next to him, who flinched. She glanced up at him with wide, hollow eyes, shrugging timidly. Deeming her useless, Frank repeated the question to another girl, this time one across from him. She seemed to have been more of a veteran, grinning at Frank with a mouth full of braces. “That’s Gerard,” She told Frank confidently, repeating what he already knew. “He’s real weird, but comes down to visit us a lot. Gerard only comes when he’s hungry, though, ‘cause he says the food’s better down here.”

The commotion at the door was getting larger, and Frank watched attentively as the bulldog lady brandished a walkie-talkie, probably threatening to call security. This didn’t seem to have much of an effect on Gerard, and in all honesty, Frank wouldn’t have been surprised if this guy knew all the guards by name.

Were there no rules here? Could patients do whatever they wanted? Frank didn’t understand why the woman didn’t just slam the door. Were there no consequences for misbehaviour? Why didn’t anyone care about what this boy was doing?

Gerard turned suddenly to Frank, catching him off guard. “Frank, huh?” He asked, grinning brightly. “Should have guessed it was you, you’re the only dude in here!” Most of his tall body was hidden by the TA’s, but Frank could still see Gerard’s messy black hair and piercing eyes from his seat at the table. He was an odd looking boy, really, but not in a way that bothered Frank too much.

“Nice to meet you,” Frank tried, because he really didn’t know what else to say. “Is there a reason you’re here? Do you want my food? Because I’m gladly offering.”

“I’m your roommate!” Gerard said excitedly, and Frank snorted. 

“How uncanny,” He replied, shooting the TA a half-hearted look. “We were just talking about you.” This was weird, Frank supposed. No one was ever  _ that  _ excited about sharing a room.

The TA sighed, her cheeks sagging even further than Frank had thought possible. “Could you just wait, please? We’re almost done.” She almost pleaded, but Gerard slipped past her, and into the room.

“Want to go unpack?” He asked Frank, extending a hand that neither seemed exactly sure what to do with. Frank shook it, standing up slowly and studying the boy. Did he seriously expect Frank to just get up and leave? His meal wasn’t completely done, but whatever he didn’t eat would be given to him through his feeding tube at night.

Frank’s mouth twisted, before breaking into a smile. “That’d be great.”

✰✰✰

"Hey, thanks for that," Frank spoke as soon as they had left the room, struggling to keep up with Gerard's quick pace. "That was pretty cool of you to take that risk for me."

Gerard seemed to know where he was going; taking sharp turns at every corner. Despite the other boy’s confidence, Frank couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder every couple steps to make sure some burly security guard wasn’t about to impale them. After a while, the turning movement made him dizzy, and Frank had to close his eyes for a second to center himself. They had taken an elevator at one point, and Frank had been entirely convinced he was going to puke. It was a sheer miracle that he hadn’t. 

"As much as I'd like to take all the credit, I've got to admit, I just wanted to meet you before they ruined my chances,” Gerard said, ducking under a table to avoid the gaze of a passing nurse, and pulling Frank down with him. Frank scrunched his nose, asking, “What?” once she’d passed. They scrambled back to their feet, with Gerard setting a quick walking pace once again.

“You know what I mean – You fucking weirdos are always massive bitches after meals. Especially on your first day of treatment,” He paused, reaching out to wrap his whole hand around Frank’s bicep. “Look at that! You’re a skeleton.”

Frank resisted the urge to pull away from Gerard’s grasp and scoffed instead. Although he hated to admit it, Gerard’s comments had made a small balloon of pride inflate inside his chest. “It’s my ninth time through, I’d barely call it a first day.” He said defensively, shaking his head. “But thanks.”

"Well, I guess it's me who should be thanking you, really," Gerard said, confusing Frank as the two boys slowed to a stop in front of a door. Frank read the number on a plastic sheet outside, confirming that it was their room. Surprisingly, Gerard had managed to get them back without getting caught.

"For what?" Frank asked, and Gerard grinned.

"Not telling the nurses how much I smoke."

\---

Mikey was running again.

He was always running, but this time it was different. This time there was someone else. Someone who was chasing him.

This wasn’t the first time Mikey had been chased, but it was the first time he’d been chased  _ here _ . It wasn’t that he was alone here; often times he would see people, but he thought they couldn’t see him.

Apparently, he was wrong.

_ Stop, please, stop,  _ Mikey begged, running faster. Branches whipped at his face and he crashed through them blindly, feeling their hot sting as they cut him. Terror seemed to swallow him as he sprinted forward, adrenaline coursing through his veins and pushing him on. He had to get away.

“Michael? Michael, can you hear me?”

_ No!  _ Mikey suddenly collapsed to the ground, curling up and pulling his knees to his chest protectively. God, he hadn’t even tried to get away this time. Usually, he’d last for a couple more minutes.  _ I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry for whatever I did! I didn’t mean it, I’m so sorry.  _ He squeezed his eyes shut, hiding his head under his arms. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, but he knew what  _ happened  _ when he did something wrong and he didn’t want  _ that  _ to happen and –

“Michael, if you can hear me open your eyes.”

_ No!  _ Mikey pressed his hands against his face wretchedly.  _ No, no, no. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t.  _ He could feel himself shaking now. Something hurt incredibly badly, but he wasn’t sure what. 

“Heart-rate escalating, doctor.” A new voice spoke, and Mikey stayed silent.

“That’s a good sign.” A pause. “Michael, are you in there? Michael, we need you to respond.”

“Heart-rate? Doctor, does that mean . . ?” 

“It’s far too early to confirm, but it’s the best sign we’ve seen from him in weeks. Try one more time, please.”

Without warning, Mikey felt a burning shock lashed across his scalp. It only lasted for a second, but it was enough to make him cry out in pain. It felt as if all the branches in the forest had hit him at once, cutting through his skin and into his brain.

“Doctor!” The voice shouted. 

“He just, did he just - Oh my God.”

“Michael.” It was the first voice again, their tone urgent. “Michael, if you can hear me respond, now.”

Mikey didn’t want to do it; they were mad at him. He didn’t open his eyes and now he was in trouble . . . But maybe opening his eyes would help? Maybe it would fix everything; maybe Mikey wouldn’t be so lost anymore. 

Even if it didn’t do either of those, he hoped that they would at least stop chasing him. So, he did it.

Mikey opened his eyes.

**\---**

Gerard was getting sick of crayons.

The facility’s ban of pencils had always seemed unreasonable to him, but right now it was worse than ever. Of course,  _ some  _ patients shouldn’t be allowed pencils - the things were practically weapons – but everyone? Have you ever  _ tried _ basic shading with a crayon? It was like trying to drink soup with chopsticks – vaguely the right idea (they were both utensils, you see?) yet so far off. It’s not like Gerard would use the pencil for harm either; if he ever got his hands on one of those things he’d treat it like pure gold.

Plus, there were plenty of other ways to injure someone (or yourself). If Gerard intended to – which he did not – a pencil would be the last thing he resorted to. 

Which led Gerard to where he was now, almost begging for a stupid pencil in the office of a man who had far more pencils than he needed.

“It’s  _ one  _ pencil, Dr. J, I think I can handle it.” Gerard said, trying his best to sound reasonable.

“Gerard, you know it’s not you I’m worried about.” Gerard’s psychologist shook his head. “Think about it from my perspective, alright? Say you leave it lying around, and someone cuts–” He corrected himself. “And someone does something _bad_ with it? Then what?”

“It won’t happen.” Gerard insisted. Realizing he was beginning to sound more desperate than he would have liked, Gerard sat back in his seat, crossing his legs. “Dr. J, if you lend me one pencil, I promise everything will be fine.”

“How about this,” Dr. J waged, putting the cap of his pen in his mouth as he scribbled down a few notes. “You participate accordingly for this entire session, and I’ll let you use one pencil during sharps hour tomorrow.”

Although it still seemed ridiculous to him, (because since when were pencils restricted to sharps hour? What was he supposed to do, shave with it?) Gerard nodded anyway, and Dr. J smiled. “Great. Now, there are a few things I wanted to talk to you about today, Gerard, which is why I called for a longer session.” Gerard nodded again, apprehension piquing his interest. 

“The first is your roommate, Frank.” Dr. J started, and Gerard hesitated. Frank? What about him? “How are you two getting along?”

Gerard recalled when he’d first discovered of the hospital’s plan to assign him a roommate. He’d returned to his room to find another bed present, and all his items neatly moved to his half of the - now shared - room. 

The surprise of having a roommate was nothing compared to the shock Gerard had felt when his eyes had landed on Frank.

An opioid addiction was the first conclusion his mind had reached, then Marfan’s, or some form of meningitis, or. . . Fuck. Frank looked fucking dead. His eyes were lined with dark circles, and his fingers had a permanent tremor when he extended them. His voice shook when he spoke, which seriously didn’t match the condescending sarcasm coming out of his mouth. Gerard noticed that the boy blinked often, and he supposed he was warding off the nausea anyone would feel when they looked like, well,  _ that _ .

Despite all this, Gerard still found himself attracted to Frank.

Fucking hell, he swore to himself. Out of all the people here, it was a fucking anorexic? He'd seen enough of their type come and go to know that relationships with them never worked out and he should probably forget it. But fuck, something wouldn't let him.

Frank was different from everyone else. Gerard saw more than his body; there was someone buried behind the baggy clothes. The snarky expressions, quick remarks, tireless retorts; they were all part of a personality Gerard was dying to know.

Maybe he was being reckless, but Gerard didn't really care. Residential was possibly the most boring place on Earth, and he wasn't about to turn down some drama to keep it alive.

“Good – he’s good.” Gerard finally answered, and Dr. J seemed surprised. 

“Really?” He asked, and Gerard let out an internal huff. Was he  _ not  _ supposed to be getting along well with Frank? The guy seemed fine (and stable for the most part) and Gerard thought that out of the lottery of roommates he could have drawn, he was grateful to have this one. Then again, Gerard knew that ‘sane’ could change in an instant, and he didn’t want to be too quick to judge Frank. He’d known him for what, three hours? Four? Gerard wasn’t sure; he’d left for his appointment almost immediately after returning to the room.

“Yes, I think I’ll get along fine with him.” Gerard said politely, but Dr. J was frowning as he read through his notes. “To be honest, Gerard, we weren’t expecting that from you. After all these years of not sharing a room, we’d figured you wouldn’t have liked it.”

“There’s plenty of time for that to change.” Gerard said sourly, and Dr. J chuckled. “Alright, we’re all good then? Can we move on?”

“Well, why is Frank-” Gerard paused, trying to find the best way to word his question. He didn’t want to come off as rude, per se, but he couldn’t help but ask. “Why is he  _ my  _ roommate?”

“What do you mean?” Dr. J asked, and Gerard tilted his head. “I mean, Frank’s anorexic, right? And there’s a whole unit for people like him. Why’s he with us?”

“I can’t discuss other patient’s private information, Gerard,” Dr. J began. “But I can tell you that Frank’s placement was not chosen carelessly, and his parents’ team thought it would be most beneficial for him. You understand that, right?”

“Sort of,” Gerard said, which was a lie, because of course he couldn’t understand. He didn’t have parents like that, and therefore couldn’t  _ really  _ identify with decisions people like that made.

Gerard had been in foster care as long as he could remember, and left his last foster home at eleven to come here, but now that seemed like decades ago. He hadn't talked to any of the other kids since then, and although there wouldn't really have been a way to, he regretted not trying harder to find them. Then at least he would have had a person out there who cared about him.

However, it would have been a lie to say that Gerard was completely alone. Insurance didn’t cover for six years of res, which meant someone was out there paying for this. Either way, Gerard didn’t care. They hadn’t been there for him in the past seventeen years of his life, and he wasn’t expecting them to show up now.

“Before I forget,” Dr. J said, adjusting his glasses. “I have some bad news for you.” He put his notepad down on his desk, and Gerard shifted uncomfortably. Putting down the notepad never meant anything good. “There’s been a slight change of plans.”

“About what?” Gerard inquired hesitantly, unsure of if he wanted to know. “Is it about my surgery?” Dr. J fell silent, and Gerard felt his stomach drop. “Have I gotten worse?”

“No,” Dr. J assured him quickly, waving his hands dismissively. “You’re not getting worse, don’t worry.” He paused before adding, “But neither is your potential donor.”

“Oh.” Gerard took a moment to digest the information, nodding slowly. He wasn’t getting a transplant after all, not soon at least. Something seemed to collapse inside him, but he pushed it away.  _ Suck it up, Gerard. _ “Well, I’m glad they’re getting better.” He forced out a smile and asked, “That’s all, right?”

“Yes, do you want to talk about it? I know it can be very difficult – wait, Gerard!” Dr. J said as Gerard stood up to leave. “This doesn’t mean you’re out of options completely, it just means –”

“I know what it means.” Gerard said flatly, nodding slightly as he exited the room. Whatever, it wasn’t like he was about to die or something. But maybe if he was, he’d be put higher up on the donation list. Then he could have his surgery, and maybe someone would show up while he was recovering, dropping by to see how he was holding up. And they’d apologize for never being there, and give some grand explanation on why they hadn’t existed . . . and probably never would.

Gerard sighed, shaking his head and stretching out his neck as he walked back down the hall, toward the common room. No one was coming for him, and the sooner he accepted that the easier it would be.

**\---**

Opening his eyes had turned out to be rather anticlimactic. 

Fors starters, the only thing Mikey could make out were blinding white circles. Lights, to be precise, blaring into his vision and making him want to shut his eyes again and fade back into darkness all over again, which he seemed to be doing against his will anyway.

“Mikey!” Or maybe not.

“Michael, squeeze my hand.” The voice commanded, so Mikey did.

“Michael, please squeeze my hand.”

_ I am!  _ Mikey wanted to shout in frustration. He  _ was  _ squeezing, it was just hard to do so when he couldn’t really feel his own hand. The limb felt cold and prickly, and the more he thought about it, the sicker he felt.

“Nervous system still unresponsive - Are you writing this down?” The bright light suddenly faded, and Mikey blinked several times to clear his vision. Around his bed (or whoever’s bed it was, it probably wasn’t his,) four people were crowded, all of them staring at him expectantly.

Oh, was he supposed to be doing something? He didn’t know what to do; he’d already opened his eyes. Now what? No one was giving him instructions.

Mikey tried to shrink away from the faces, but was having an exceedingly hard time doing so as his legs weren’t functioning the way he’d expected them to. But maybe they’d always done that, Mikey wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure what was attached to his face, but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere and Mikey wasn’t about to try and make it. 

“Michael, I am going to ask you a series of questions. Blink once for yes, twice for no.” A woman suddenly instructed; her jet-black hair pulled back into a ponytail so tight it looked painful. Mikey just wanted to reach up and pull her hair free.

_ Uh, okay.  _ The goal seemed pretty self-explanatory to him.

“Is the date September 10 th familiar to you?”

_ No _ . Two blinks.

A murmur went up from the surrounding people, and Mikey panicked. That obviously wasn’t what they had wanted. Should he lie next time? Mikey’s worries were cut off by another question. “Do you know why you’re here?”

_ No _ . Two blinks. He didn’t know, and that was the truth. The voices rose up again, but they were speaking too quickly for Mikey to understand them. He was asked a few more strange questions, before the black ponytail lady turned to another woman - this one with blonde hair. “It’s too early to tell, but it’s possible that Michael may have retrograde amnesia due to the stress and neurological damage his brain endured.”

Retro-what? Mikey hadn’t heard that word before and didn’t know what it meant. Was something wrong? Was something wrong with  _ him _ ?

“Michael is young and incredibly able to make a full recovery, but at this point in time. our focus with him is going to be working on his physical recovery, especially with the blunt force to his back during the accident.” The voice continued to drone on, and Mikey tuned it out as his eyes began to close. He was tired. No, he was more than that; he was  _ exhausted _ . And he really wanted to take a nap right now.

✰✰✰

When Mikey awoke for the second time that day, he didn’t open his eyes immediately. Instead, he waited, listening to the voices in the room. They were new voices – different from the ones before – and they seemed more emotional, and angrier.

“This is so dumb! I’m fine!”

“You are  _ not  _ fine.” A second voice argued. “You can’t just wish all your problems away, Bob. You need to listen to me and do what’s right for your body. It’s not hard!”

“I bet you hear that one from your girlfriend a lot.”

“Bob!” The outraged voice replied.

“Sorry.” Came a muttered apology, grumbled out unenthusiastically. “I just don’t see why I have to stay in this dump. Especially with some gross dude in a coma.”

There was a soft thud as someone was hit. “Don’t call him that, Jesus. Just be glad it’s not you.”

Mikey opened his eyes at this, looking over at the boy as best he could. Were they talking about him? Was he the dude in the coma? 

The room was much darker now, with the only light coming from the lamp beside the other boy’s bed. Mikey liked it better this way, without the bright lights and shiny walls. The window’s shades were now down, and he presumed a few hours must have passed since his previous encounter.

“Shit, were his eyes open before?” The guy remarked as he spotted Mikey’s changed appearance. He was a boy - around Mikey’s age - lying in the hospital bed across from him. The hood of his sweatshirt hid most of his blond hair and face, which was currently focused intently on Mikey. There was a man too, who he presumed to be the boy’s father.

“Language, Bob.” The man corrected, and Bob scoffed. “Oh boy.”

There were a few moments of silence, before the man spoke again. “I have to go now. I’ll be back tomorrow to speak with your doctors about your treatment.”

“You’re leaving me?” Bob gasped, his eyes widening. “What the fuck? You can’t do that! You can’t leave me in this place!”

“It’s late, Bob, and it’s not like I can sleep here.” Bob’s father argued as he grabbed his bag. “Goodnight.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Bob sighed, glancing over at Mikey once his father had left. “I guess it’s not like you have much to worry about, coma kid.”

Not much to worry about? What did he mean?

“I heard your mom say your old man kicked it.” Bob continued, tiredly rubbing his eyes. “Must be nice.”

Kicked it? Was his father dead?

“Fuck, you probably can’t even hear me, either.” Bob flailed his arm a couple of times in Mikey’s direction, as if looking for a response.

_ Yes, I can!  _ Mikey blinked rapidly, hoping the other boy could see it. He did, raising his brows slightly. “Damn,” Bob sucked in his breath. “That must suck; being able to hear everything but not be able to talk. Hope that changes soon, coma kid.” The boy turned off the lamp, casting the room into darkness. Mikey would have preferred it to be left on, but it’s not like he could do anything about it now.

Or could he?

Mikey stopped suddenly, thinking. He could talk, couldn’t he? Nothing was stopping him, right? Quietly, Mikey hummed, too softly for Bob to hear.

It worked; Mikey wasn’t mute. But no one needed to know. Not for now, at least.

“Talk to you tomorrow, weirdo.” Bob called out from the dark, and Mikey smiled.

_ Same goes for you, Bob. _

  
  


**\---**

“Weigh-ins are  _ when _ ?”

“Four to five am, Frank.” The nurse repeated, agitatedly tapping her pen against her bitten-down nails. Gerard had left for a therapy session almost as soon as the two returned to their room, and Frank had just finished unpacking when a nurse had grabbed him to explain the hospital routine. “I know it’s early, but it’s required you go, understand? Missing a weigh-in is considered an obstruction. Your first and second obstructions are warnings, but by your third you’ll get moved up a level in your re-feeding program.”

Frank didn’t bother asking what the levels meant, whatever it was it couldn’t be good, and he’d make it his goal not to move up a level. Not that he was planning on cooperating, of course. There were other ways.

“Here’s your schedule.” The nurse handed him a small, folded sheet of paper. Frank glanced over it casually, noticing that his room for meals had changed. He had a talk with his nutritionist, thorough vitals with a physician, and tutoring on the agenda for today, with a couple of meals, DBT, rec times, and bathroom breaks scattered in. Surprisingly, there was no therapy on the list.

“Your parents, uh, requested that you switched doctors; so your appointment for today is canceled.” The nurse shuffled her papers as she prepared for the next patient, before adding, “Yesterday’s SOAP said you’re clean, but lost half a pound. Your dietician also has you down for switched meal plans starting tomorrow. You had quite a few penalties for your first day, Frank. Nursing tasks for this morning are skin checks and labs – you’re going to have weights and vitals every day until your team reevaluates, okay?”

“Yeah,” He muttered, crumpling the papers as she left. Stripping to check for self-harm, going over your allergies so they didn’t accidentally kill you, murmuring something about last night’s dream while someone took your heart rate at three-am, and pretending to be a vampire’s helpless victim when your blood was drawn. 

It was pretty standard mental hospital stuff. 

✰✰✰

“Next!” 

“Coming,” Frank scrambled to his feet, blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders for warmth. He’d been waiting almost thirty minutes for his weigh-in, and if he could get it over with now, he might even have time to go back to sleep before breakfast. 

His first day yesterday had ended uneventfully (well, as uneventfully as a hospital could get), and he had managed to shove dinner under the seat cushions in his chair without being caught. Gerard had shown him how the window cracked open an inch, and Frank had thrown all the food out through there.

Gerard had also chain-smoked into the air vent, but Frank wasn’t about to mention that. To be honest, he sort of enjoyed the dusky smell, and was sad when Gerard worked furiously to get it out of the room.

“Name and birthday?” The nurse asked as he pulled on the flower-speckled gown. Jesus, couldn’t they have just gone with solid colors? A dark blue could have perhaps salvaged his dignity. The gown was the cloth type, not paper, smelling of freshly washed laundry. Hospital laundry that was, but laundry nonetheless. Frank resisted the urge to push his nose into the sleeve as he tied the string tightly over his waist, pleased to find that even the tightest knot wouldn’t hold the child-sized cover secure. 

The nurse was an older woman, sporting rusty orange scrubs and a pixie cut. Frank wasn’t thrilled by her, (after all, the older the nurse, the less bullshit they take) but he tried his best to look happy. “Frank Iero, October 31.” 

“Halloween, huh?” She nodded, checking his hospital band before typing in the information before turning on the scale. Frank smiled grimly, pretending he’d never heard that one before. “How are you feeling today, Frank?” She asked, and he answered before she could finish. “Fine.” He disliked the small talk in exam rooms; it felt so fake. Frank would do anything he could to avoid it.

“Good, good,” The nurse entered his answer into the exam room computer, before saying, “Step on backwards, please.” Frank followed her instruction, dropping the blanket to the floor and stepping on the scale. Being exposed without his blanket had left him fucking freezing, and Frank’s legs began to shake.

He pretended not to hear her huff of surprise at the sight of him, and stared straight ahead. “No weights?” The nurse asked, and he nodded, lifting the gown to show his ankles. “Now, just stop moving,” The nurse said crossly and Frank scowled at her. If he  _ could  _ stop shivering, he  _ would _ . “Right.” He murmured tiredly instead, rubbing his arms to stay warm. Maybe he’d burn the tables in the dining room later to make some heat in this place.

“You can step off, now.” The nurse turned off the scale and turned to rummage around in a few bins before finding what she was looking for and handing it to Frank. He took off the hospital gown, dropping it on the exam table before accepting her offering.

“What’s this?” Frank wrinkled his nose at the object, and the nurse picked up his hand and clamped it to his finger. “A heart-monitor.” She explained giving Frank’s fingers a pat before dropping his arm again, and typing more information in her computer. “You’re two pounds away from a BMI of thirteen, Frank. Do you know what a BMI of thirteen means?”

“Yeah,” Frank glanced down at his hand, now adorned with a bulky blue clip and began creating his plan to dispose of it. Under the bed should be simple enough, but if they were to persist he’d run it under the sink a few times to get rid of it for good. “Back to intensive care.” While he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of going back to 24/7 bed rest, at least the ICU was warm.

“Spot on, honey.” The nurse nodded, and Frank stood silently as she inspected him for cuts or bruises. Once she confirmed he was clean; Frank grabbed his blanket off the floor and rushed out of the room. He recognized a few of the other patients in the hall from yesterday’s dinner, but didn’t acknowledge any of them for fear of having to indulge in a conversation.

Yes, it was a bit rude - So what? Frank was fucking cold, tired, and ready to get back into bed. He was  _ not _ in the mood for conversations. (Or their prying eyes as he rushed quickly through the hallway. For fuck’s sake, couldn’t people keep their business to themselves?)

When he’d reached his own room again, he flung himself onto the bed, covering his head in an attempt to block out any light. It wasn’t quite so frigid in here, and he let out a low sigh of relief. Before he could fall back asleep though, someone spoke.

“It’s five am, you motherfucker, where were you?” It was Gerard.

Frank groaned, rolling over to face the boy. “Sleep now, talk later.” He instructed and Gerard laughed, but to Frank’s satisfaction, didn’t say any more. That was, until a nurse barged in, loudly shouting Frank’s name.

The nurses were required to make quarterly rounds, checking in on each individual patient every fifteen minutes to make sure they hadn’t died, exploded, shoved French fries up their nose, etc. However, this was quite a tedious job and the least favorite shift, so the nurses switched whose responsibility it was frequently. Frank was used to having nurses check in on him at random moments, but he was not used to having them storm noisily into his room at unearthly hours, calling out his name and forcing him awake.

“Frank Iero, come with me.” The nurse instructed, and Frank shook his head, pulling the blanket closer. “Yeah, in your dreams.” He refused, eyeing the nurse skeptically. “Whatever it is it can wait until  _ after  _ breakfast. Or preferably during it.”

“It’s your parents, kid.” The nurse explained. “They want to talk to you.”

Frank’s eyes widened a little, and his expression shifted. “My parents are here?” He didn’t believe it. There was no way. They never visited him, but they were here now? No, it couldn’t be true he realized, sobering quickly. “There must have been a mistake,” Frank said. “Are you sure they’re mine?”

“Uh, wait, yes,” The nurse said quickly, backpedaling on his words. “They’re not at the hospital, just on the phone.”

“Right,” Frank nodded, but didn’t move. God, what the Hell. Of course they wouldn’t care to drive over, but they’d call him at four thirty in the morning? “Yeah, okay, they can call me back at twelve.”

“You know that’s not how it works.” The response was shot back firmly. “Call hours are from two pm to five pm; we’re making an exception for your family.” 

Frank felt his body stiffen. What had his parents done now? They really just couldn’t leave him alone, could they?

The nurse opened his mouth to speak more, when Gerard cut him off. “Hey, how about you leave?” The boy tilted his chin towards the exit. “I think you’re done here.”

“Be polite, Gerard,” The nurse said warningly, and maybe it was Frank’s imagination but he could hear a hint of fear in the adult man’s voice. “This is between Frank and I, and doesn’t concern you. I could call security right now.”

Frank’s face was still on his pillow, hiding his curious expression. Did Gerard seriously just do whatever the fuck he wanted? Why didn’t he ever get it trouble?

Gerard simply sighed at the nurses words as he grabbed Frank’s arm. “You shouldn’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to. C’mon, Frank.”

“What, no! I’m sleeping.” Frank protested, but got out of bed anyway as the nurse made a lunge for his other arm. He’d rather follow Gerard than have to talk to his parents.

“ _ Thank  _ you,” Gerard said with exasperation, turning and marching down the hall with a blanket-wrapped Frank trailing behind him.  _ Fuck _ , it was cold in this place. Couldn’t they turn up the heat?

Frank glanced behind him to see the nurse staring helplessly at their backs. Wasn’t he going to run after them? “Where are we going?” He asked, and Gerard smiled faintly. “You’ll see.” After a few moments reached out and opened a door, leading them into another patient’s room. The walls were much brighter here, covered in posters and paper cut outs. There were a few shirts on the ground, as well as dresses.

“Dude, this is a  _ girl’s  _ room!” Frank hissed to Gerard, taking a moment to admire the pictures before spotting the girl currently _ in _ the room. “Uh, hey.” He muttered, and she shot him a smile. “What’s up?”

“Lindsey we’re sleeping here now.” Gerard announced, and Lindsey gave him finger guns. “Radical,” She winked, before grabbing her coat and walking out, shutting the door behind her.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Frank raised his brows, watching as Gerard got into one of the two beds. Was this really how it worked, here? Maybe this hospital wasn’t turning out to be as bad as the rest. “You wanted to sleep, didn’t you?” Gerard asked, motioning to the room around them. “Well, now you can.”

“Yeah, but where are the patients who sleep here?” Frank pressed, and Gerard yawned. “Hayley gets weighed early then eats alone, and Lindsey smokes.”

Frank had plenty of other questions (such as, if Lindsey could smoke here; could  _ he  _ smoke? And why didn’t Gerard use a smoke break instead of their room?), but he kept them inside as he climbed onto the bed. It wasn’t as soft as his, and his hips dug into the mattress painfully as he turned over, but it would have to do for now. Frank grabbed a handful of the very girl-smelling blankets, before tugging them up to his chin and shutting his eyes.

✰✰✰

“What’s up, bitches?” A pillow smacked the back of Frank’s head waking him with a start. “I’m reclaiming my room, now; take your friend out, Gerard.”

“Lindsey, I thought you didn’t have breakfast until seven-thirty,” Gerard groaned, not making any effort to move. Frank rubbed his eyes open, glancing around to try and find the pillow culprit. He’d been having some weird dream about teeth, or something of the sort.

“Nope, but they’re making rounds early this morning so I have to change before they come. Not supposed to be smoking as much with these new meds.” Lindsey pinched her shirt. “Can’t have them sniffing me out. Literally.”

“You’re hilarious. Has anyone ever told you to try stand-up?” Gerard stretched, and positioned himself to fall back asleep. Frank took this as his own opportunity to sleep, watching through half-open eyes as Lindsey shook Gerard’s shoulder. “Alright, get out. I have to  _ change _ .”

“Then change!” Gerard swatted her hands away. “You know I’m not into that, Lindsey. No perversion here.”

Frank paused at his words. Was Gerard gay? He wasn’t sure how he’d feel with a gay roommate. Frank wasn’t homophobic or anything, but he didn’t want Gerard making a pass at him while he was sleeping, for Christ’s sake.

“Gerard,” Lindsey mock-whined, pulling at his arm. “I want to keep my cigs! Get back to your room so I can get rid of this shirt.”

“I’ll buy you more, go switch shirts.” Gerard grabbed the nearest item of clothing discarded on the floor and tied it around his eyes as a blindfold. Unfortunately for him, it was a bra. “There.” He waved his hand in front of his face to prove his lack of sight. “Now, go change.”

“Give me that back, Mr. ‘no perversion here.’” Lindsey snatched the bra of his face. “You’re weird, you know that? Anyway, what about Frank?” She turned to address the younger boy. “No, let me guess; you’re gay, too?”

“Fuck you, no,” Frank mumbled sleepily, covering his eyes with a hand. Could Lindsey turn off the lights, already? 

“See!” Lindsey exploded, chucking another pillow at Frank’s face, catching him in the neck. Frank wasn’t sure why  _ he  _ was the one being hit, but was too distracted to say anything. “Gerard, take your heterosexual male friend  _ out _ of here before I take him out myself!”

“Okay, okay,” Gerard groused, finally getting out of bed. “We’re going.”

Lindsey threw up her hands. “Praise Jesus!” 

✰✰✰

When they got back to their room, there was a nurse waiting for them. “Shit,” Gerard said under his breath. “I guess they  _ were  _ making rounds early.”

“Boys!” The nurse snapped, shaking her head. Frank think he recognized her from yesterday, but wasn’t quite sure. Short with glasses as thick as coke bottles seemed to cover about half of the population. “You know better than to leave your room before breakfast.”

“Do we?” Gerard shrugged innocently. “I think we seem pretty mentally disabled, don’t you? You can’t blame us for our diseases.” Frank wasn’t sure what disease Gerard was referencing, but he decided to go with it.

“Gerard,” The nurse said warningly, jotting down something on her clipboard. She made sure both of the boys swallowed their pills before leaving the room to check on the next patient.

The moment she was gone, Gerard spat two of his pills back into his palm and stuffed them into the air vent. He smiled to himself briefly, before nudging Frank with his elbow. “Ready for breakfast?”

“Not really.” Frank sighed. “I’m probably going to have to drink Ensure or some crap for not finishing yesterday’s dinner.”

“I’ll drink it for you.” Gerard suggested, but Frank shook his head. “I have to switch meal-rooms after yesterday, plus, I have a nurse watching me one-on-one. I’m sure my parents are thrilled by the extra fees.”

“Don’t worry about money, let your insurance take care of that.” Gerard put an arm around Frank’s shoulder, invading his personal space. “Yeah, alright.” Frank resisted the pressing urge to shove Gerard’s arm away, letting it rest securely around him. After a few moments, the heavy weight became unbearable and he squirmed, ducking quickly to get away from the other boy.

“Are you okay?” 

Frank turned quickly to see Gerard’s concerned expression looking at him. Yikes, he hadn’t meant to push Gerard away roughly. “Yeah, yeah, sorry.” Before Frank could say anything else, a nurse walked in to retrieve him for breakfast. To his relief or not, Frank wasn’t sure.

**\---**

They were coming.

They were chasing Mikey again, and he couldn’t get away. He swatted overhanging brush away from his face as he dashed through the undergrowth, not paying any mind to the direction. It didn’t matter where he was going as long as he was going away from them. Mikey felt his legs ache, begging him to stop, but he pressed forward. He had to keep running. He wasn’t quite sure of what would happen once he was caught, but something kept him from wanting to find out.

His lungs burned with fire, and his muscles screamed for air as he forced himself to go on. The sound of blood rushing in his ears filled his head as he ran blindly through the forest.

Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? 

They were catching up to him now, breathing down his back. Icy fingers dug into Mikey’s eye sockets and mouth, forcing their way inside and constricting the air from his throat. Gagging, he scrabbled at his neck, trying to pry the fingers away. Everything burned, and something hot ran down his face.

  
  


“Dude, chill out!”

_ That’s not how the voices sound.  _ Mikey gasped, tensing. He writhed around, trying to pull the hands away from him. They smelled like gasoline, with their dull metal tang rushing through him. There was no escaping now, the fingers were interlocked, squeezing tighter. “No!”

Mikey’s eyes snapped open, and he was yanked forwards into consciousness. Breathing hard, Mikey fisted the bed’s plastic-like sheets and tried to calm down. He could feel his pulse in every part of his body, and the dull throbbing made him feel like he was shaking. 

Looking up, Mikey found Bob staring at him, his face a reflection of Mikey’s shock. “Fuck, you can talk!” Bob was in awe, his open mouth half-smiling.

“Have you always been able to do that?” The guy said, looking Mikey over before correcting himself. “I mean, since the coma and shit. Could you talk before?”

“Y-Yeah.” Mikey replied timidly, feeling his knees shake a bit. It felt like a muscle cramp on steroids. His words were slow and his tongue seemed to stick to his cheeks and the roof of his mouth as he used it. “I can talk.”

“Well,” Bob raised his brows so that they were hidden by his bangs. “You should have seen yourself a few seconds ago. Your cannula got all messed up, and when I tried to fix it you had an aneurism or some shit.” He sighed. “If only I had  _ known  _ you could move, then I wouldn’t have messed with it.”

“No.” Mikey breathed, closing his eyes for a moment to settle himself. Why was the room always spinning? He wished he hadn’t been strangled for so long; now he felt dizzy. “I can’t move. Just talk, I think.” He tried flexing an arm. His fingers moved, but the rest stayed dead.

“You can definitely move a few seconds ago,” Bob said, blowing out a quick breath. “I hope you get better soon.”

“Uh, you too,” Mikey wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond. Gosh, was Bob even a patient? _No, he is._ Mikey reminded himself, remembering Bob’s conversation with his father. “You’re sick, right?” He asked anyway, just to be sure.

“Sure, but not like you, man.” Bob said, sitting back down on his bed. “Just back for chemo, again.” He let out an irritated sigh. “I really thought I was done with it last time, but I guess the universe had other plans. My parents are happy to dump me off anywhere, though.”

“Oh.” What was chemo? And why were Bob’s parents happy about it? Mikey didn’t remember his parents. Shoot, was he supposed to? How many things was he forgetting? “Bob,” Mikey started, and Bob glanced over at him in surprise. “You know my name.” He stated, but Mikey ignored him. “How did I get here?”

Bob shook his head slowly. “No clue, man. But if it means anything, it sounded gnarly from what I’d overheard.”

“What did you hear?” Mikey asked, and Bob shrugged. “Just stuff you probably already know. It sounded like you were pretty lucky to survive.” He waited a moment, before saying quietly, “Were you in foster care, dude? They mentioned a lot of . . . things.”

“Was I in what?” Mikey tilted his head, and Bob blew out his breath quickly. “That was rude of me, forget I said anything. It’s not my business.”

Where was Mikey before he came here?  _ You were pretty lucky to survive.  _ What had happened? Mikey didn’t have a clue what Bob was talking about, but decided to leave the silence in the room as it was.

✰✰✰

It was one am when Mikey heard it. A sigh. 

Just a small one, nothing out of the ordinary. It was so soft it could have been mistaken for a noise made in one’s sleep, but Mikey knew better than that. He knew Bob was awake, and he knew that the sigh had come from him.

Whether or not to say something, that’s what he  _ didn’t  _ know.

Today had been fairly similar to yesterday; more doctors, more tests. But generally, it had been a lot of nothing. There wasn’t much to do when you couldn’t move your limbs, but Mikey did find himself being a small part grateful for the numbness in his arms. This gratefulness usually surfaced during the extensive blood draws he seemed to have to endure occasionally – watching the thick, dark liquid pool out of his veins into the vial made his stomach twist, but it wasn’t like he could turn away or anything. Closing his eyes was the best it got for now, Mikey supposed.

Eventually, a mix of curiosity, boredom, and an overall lack of interaction got the best of Mikey, and he spoke up. “Bob?”

A moment of silence. Then, “What?”

Mikey paused. What was he supposed to say?  _ Oh, I just heard you making some sad noises – supposed I’d check in on you, being a complete stranger, paralyzed, in the opposing hospital bed. _

Good one, Mikey.

“Are you okay?” He went with instead, and Bob grunted. “Yes. Fine.”

“Oh,” Mikey breathed. “Right.” He began to suppose that he should have just kept his mouth shut when Bob broke the silence. (If you could call it that - the beeping and  _ whoosh _ noises from monitors seemed to be never-ending).

“I’m sorry-” Mikey had just begun to say, when the older boy had cut him off. “No,  _ I’m _ sorry because I’m not fine.” Bob said, not looking up from his bed. His face was illuminated by a pale light.  _ A phone,  _ Mikey’s head told him, and he remained silent as we waited for Bob to continue.

“My girlfriend broke up with me today. Well, tonight, I guess.” Bob admitted at last, and Mikey bit his lip (a newfound ability, but fairly easy to do by sucking it in rather than moving the lip itself). “Bob, I’m sorry.” He said softly, and Bob nodded from where he laid.

“Nah, man, it’s whatever.” Bob brushed him off. “It was coming, you know?” Mikey didn’t know, but he made a noise of agreement nonetheless. “She was going to do it sometime, I just didn’t think – Not while I’m  _ here _ ,” Bob’s voice broke off. His face seemed to reflect the light stronger now, in bright streaks and – Oh, God, was he crying? 

Bob was crying, Mikey realized with a jolt, and he froze. Shoot, shoot, shoot. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help.

“Bob?” Mikey whispered, and Bob looked up for the first time that night, meeting the other’s eyes. “Yeah?” He replied, and Mikey paused, before spitting it out.

“What’s a girlfriend?”

\---

“Lindsey! Lindsey! Lindsey!”

Frank entered the cafeteria to a small chorus of chants, coming from a far table. He made his way over curiously, because  _ Lindsey _ , that was Gerard’s friend, wasn’t it? 

_ The one who thought you were gay _ .

Frank ignored the thought as he reached the table. It consisted of a few kids he didn’t recognize, plus Lindsey and one girl he’d seen the day before. No Gerard, though. 

Breakfast had been pure Hell, and what Frank had been unable to shove up his sleeve he’d thrown across the room in an outburst of - well, not  _ rage.  _ Explosive irritation was perhaps a better way to put it. Yes, explosive irritation. Tutoring was fine, but he’d then had to spend up until lunch with a  _ new  _ meal (yes, entirely new. Frank had  _ double  _ the usual stuffed down his pants, and the nurses had just begun to catch on when he’d ‘eaten’ the last bite and scrambled out of the room to toss the remains out the window in a plastic bag. Gerard had found it hilarious, Frank had not). 

Despite not being on the schedule, therapy had been added into his day before lunch, and Frank’s ‘new’ had been just like every other they’d tried. Her “fail-proof methods” involved tube-feeding after a fast of over twelve hours or a BMI of 15, and her target weight for Frank had been into the high 160s. He’d practically vomited right then and there (and oh, how hilarious that would have been).

Lunch had been far worse, and had ended with Frank spitting a mouthful of Ensure at anyone who looked at him twice (seriously, who created those satanic things anyway?) and pouring the container of ranch onto the floor. He would admit, he’d gleaned a good deal of satisfaction from that one, as it appeared the stain might never come off the horrid forest-green pelt.

His therapist had written down some bullshit about “moving in the wrong direction with a blatant lack of respect and pride” but to _Hell_ with that because it was over now and Frank was out and walking towards this girl Lindsey in the middle of the lunchroom, denying the fact that it had been Gerard he’d been hoping to see. But he was allowed to hope, wasn’t he? Friends looked for each other at meals, that was a normal friend thing to do (even if Frank wasn’t exactly a _meals_ kind of guy).

A scream snapped Frank back to attention, just in time to witness Lindsey tipping a container of salt onto her outstretched tongue. Where she’d acquired one, Frank had no clue. All condiments were served in prepackaged containers, but that really wasn’t Frank’s focus at the moment. Lindsey had just  _ poured salt on her tongue _ . It hadn’t been a small amount either, and now she was spitting it out – Ah,  _ Christ _ , she was spitting it out. Lindsey was calm and laughing through all this, but her small cult, on the other hand, was freaking out, shouting and flapping their limbs.

“Yuck, Lindsey! That was horrible!”

“Won’t you get sick?”

“I’m going to try!”

“Does that work with anything? Toothpaste?”

Lindsey finished spitting out the salt, and wrinkled her nose in a suppressed grin. “Yes, it works with anything, and no, Brendon, do not try it.” She snatched the container back from another boy, who was preparing to attempt the same feat.

“Whoa, Lindsey! That was awesome,” Frank sat on a table across from theirs, and the kids turned to face him, seeing him for the first time.

Frank took a moment to look at Lindsey. She didn’t seem too much older than him, maybe even the same age. Her black hair was loosely held behind her ears, and her outfit looked rather artistic, as far as hospital-approved outfits went. Frank also noticed the self-harm on her arms, but it was rather uncommon among patients here.

Frank suddenly realized the table had fallen silent, and he felt the hot stares of the group burning into him. He instinctively pushed his arms into his sweatshirt pockets, hiding his body.

“What’s  _ wrong  _ with him?” Frank heard one patient hiss into another’s ear, and the other whispered something back that Frank couldn’t quite catch. He didn’t need to hear to know, though. It was always the same.

All of a sudden, the room seemed too big for him, and Frank had the appealing urge to run back to his bed and sleep until dinner. He could picture himself doing it – sure, he’d be called weird, but fuck it, who cared? Not Frank.

Gerard being here would have also helped, but Frank refused to accept that idea. Gerard couldn’t help him, not in that sense, and it would be better if he just kept his space. After all, Frank didn’t need anyone. He could manage just fine on his own, he always had.

Thankfully, Lindsey recognized Frank and spoke up. “Frank! Come sit down!” She beckoned at a seat by hers, and he took it.

“Frank?” A girl with bright hair had asked, eyeing him. “ _ You’re  _ Gerard’s roommate?”

“Yeah,” Frank said hesitantly. Where was this leading? Before he could think too hard about it, another boy spoke up. He was hidden in a pair of sweats and an oversized T-shirt, with dark circles under his tired eyes. “They put Gerard in with an anorexic?” The boy frowned. “This unit isn’t for them. Why’s he even here?”

“Duh, isn’t it obvious?” A different patient carefully nudged the first. This one had short black hair and neon shoes. “This isn’t your average ballerina.”

Oh, fuck you.

Now that he looked closer, Frank had seen this patient before. He could never sit still, his legs always bouncing and torso always rocking. Frank had seen people like him before, but never this severe. The kid never seemed to stop moving. Frank wondered how he slept. “Do you  _ see  _ him?” The neon shoes boy reached out an arm to demonstrate, but unlike when Gerard had done it, Frank shifted out of his reach to avoid contact. He didn’t want this boy touching him.

_ Any boy, Frank.  _ He reminded himself.

“Oh, shut up,” Lindsey smacked the kid’s arm down. “You’re being insensitive, you two. Especially you, Brendon,” She beckoned at the neon shoes guy. “Don’t fucking talk about someone else like that, especially not in front of them. Show some respect.”

“Right, sorry,” Brendon had shot Frank an apologetic look, but the eye-circles kid just turned the other way. 

“Alright,” Frank got up from his seat and stalked out of the room without looking back. He didn’t need to; he already knew all eyes were on him. 

✰✰✰

“You really won’t eat, will you?”

Gerard’s voice woke Frank for the second time that day. He’d been sleeping for most of the afternoon, only to be awoken for dinner which he’d marched into the hallway and thrown down the laundry chute. He’d heard Gerard come in and out of the room a few times, but hadn’t said anything until now.

“Why do you think I’m in here?” Frank snapped back sleepily, pulling down the covers and sitting up on his bed. 

“Fair enough.” Gerard agreed. “You should hear what the nurses are saying about you, though.”

“I probably spat on half of them.” Frank shrugged, only half-regrettably.

Although he hadn’t brought an excessive number of items from home, his half of the room seemed infinitely more inhabited than Gerard’s side. Frank blinked a few times, looking around at the room. Gerard’s sheets were the hospital-brand white and blue, and his walls were blank save for the masses of crayon artwork adorning them. It was kind of amazing, actually.

Frank spotted fanart of a comic they both enjoyed, and the two talked about it for a few moments before Frank pulled out the latest issue from under his bed and tossed it to Gerard.

“No way,” Gerard breathed, and Frank could have laughed at the expression on his face. “Can I sit?”

“Sure.” Frank shrugged, and Gerard sat down, before frowning at poking at the mattress. “What’s wrong with your bed?”

“What?” Frank asked, confused. He was pretty sure nothing was wrong with his bed; it felt normal to him.

“Your bed.” Gerard insisted, putting the comic down gently so he could use his other hand to poke at it. “It’s so. . . soft?”

“Oh,” Frank felt heat creeping up his neck and he swallowed awkwardly. “Yeah, it’s an air mattress with an egg crate.” He hoped Gerard knew why already (or at least had the decency not to ask) but of course with Frank’s luck, in Gerard’s six years of staying in a hospital he’d never learned and proceeded to question it.

“Why?” Gerard wrinkled his nose teasingly. “Are the hospital beds not fancy enough for you?”

“Yeah, sort of.” Frank rolled his eyes, before leaning forward in his bed and turning to the side. “Look,” Frank pulled his shirt tight across his back so the bones were visible against the fabric. He could feel Gerard’s shudder without looking.

Yeah, it was gross, Frank knew.

“Laying down kind of hurts.” Frank sat back up, pushing away the hair that had fallen into his eyes. “Get it now?”

Gerard nodded, cracking a grin. “Do you think if I start skipping meals they’ll give me one of these instead?” He asked, and Frank snorted in amusement. “You can try.”

There was a moment of silence, and Frank shifted a little before asking, “Why are you in here, Gerard?”

Gerard stiffened in surprise, his eyebrows raising before answering, “Faulty liver. Going to need a damn transplant.”

And maybe it was the mysterious scar on his nose, or the way he’d answered so coldly - but something told Frank that wasn’t the only reason.

**\---**

“Come on, Mikey! Come on,” A hand pulled Mikey forward. His feet moved instinctively. Where was he?

“I’m coming,” Mikey answered, but it wasn’t him talking.  _ Am I watching myself?  _ Mikey wondered, confused.  _ Is this a dream?  _ If it was a dream, shouldn’t Mikey be able to control his own body?

“Y’know, I was thinking we’d hit the store down by 14 th this time.” The boy with the hand pulling him spoke. He had poorly-cut, brown hair and was sporting mismatched attire, with no apparel seeming to fit him in the slightest. The boy felt faintly familiar to Mikey, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. He didn’t look to be older than twelve, and was taller than Mikey. The boy had a peculiar scar across the bridge of his nose, no thicker than a guitar string, but the indent was at least a few centimeters deep. Mikey wondered what could have caused it.

“I dunno,” Mikey replied. “That one looked like it had cameras, and you know what Maria said.” Mikey noticed his voice sounded higher-pitched than usual. Maybe the voice wasn’t his?

_ Or maybe it’s a younger version of me. _

“Fuck Maria.” The boy laughed, surprising Mikey. He seemed too young to be speaking with those words or tone. “What’s she gonna do? Throw us out on the street?”

“She could,” Mikey insisted, and the boy snorted, pulling up the backpack on his shoulders that had slipped down. “Then she’d be doing us a favor, bud. We’ve got nothing for us here.”

And something told Mikey there was plenty for them there and they should never leave, could never leave, and that he’d never want to because he didn’t want to go back  _ there _ but he had no clue what  _ there _ was or what was going on because  _ what were these memories that were not his  _ and why were they hear all of a sudden and- 

“Shit!” The boy suddenly hissed, diving behind a pair of trashcans. Mikey was unsurprised to find himself doing the same, whispering, “Who is it? Have they found us? It’s not the ones from Glendale, is it?”

“No, no,” He watched the other boy shake his head, pressing his back firmly against the trashcan as not to be seen. Mikey didn’t know whom they were hiding from, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Voices grew close, and he strained to hear them. “I coulda sworn I’d seen ‘em, Ricky.” One sighed, and the other said, “Well, I wouldn’t say you didn’t. Their kind of vermin is swampin’ up this whole town, I tell ya.”

“Their kind of vermin?”

“Oh, you know.” The second voice grunted. “Those addicts just can’t control themselves. They’ll create as many little fuck-ups as they want, and then just dump ‘em on our taxes to care for. It’s killin’ me, really is.”

“I feel bad for them, Ricky.”

“No use. They all follow in their daddy’s footsteps; dead by thirty, no doubt.” A laugh. “Prolly have a few grubs of their own to torment us, though, before they kick it.”

The other boy noticed Mikey listening and took the cap off his own head, placing it down on Mikey’s. “Don’t listen to them, Mikes,” He said, confirming Mikey’s suspicion that it  _ was _ him in that body. “They’re fulla crap, they don’t know shit about you or me, okay? We’re different, we’re not those fuck-ups, you hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Mikey’s mumbled, and the boy shoved his arm lightly. “I’m serious, Mikey. They don’t know shit.”

Mikey nodded slowly. “Ger-” A hand suddenly clamped over his mouth as someone grabbed him from behind. “Gotcha!” Strong arms hauled Mikey out from where he was hiding; the police had found them.

“Mikey!” The boy shouted as Mikey was thrown up against a car, his arm wrenched painfully. Sparks shot up his wrist and he grabbed at them quickly, only to have pain explode in that arm too.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Mikey screwed up his face, which was hidden by the fallen cap. The sparks had turned to fire now, burning down his veins. He felt his nails scraping at them but couldn’t see anymore as the pain had clouded his vision. “Stop!” Mikey begged the policemen to let go of his arm, but the rough grip wouldn’t let up.

“Let him go!” The other boy was yelling now, but Mikey could barely hear him through the pounding of blood in his eardrums. It hurt so badly. Why did it hurt so badly? 

“Nurse? Anyone there? Someone?”

Mikey tried to pull away but he could barely move now. The pain was crawling up his back and to his neck. He felt as if the skin was being ripped away and burning acid was being poured onto the exposed flesh.  _ Make it stop, someone make it stop.  _

“Uh, anybody? There’s something wrong. Someone help!”

Mikey sat up in his bed quickly, his hands gripping his face tightly and his legs pulled close to his chest. He wasn’t in the city any longer; there was no boy and no policemen. But the pain was still there. The agony was everywhere now, and he felt like he was dying.  _ Or already dead. _

There was a loud wail in the room, and it took Mikey a few moments before he realized it was coming from his own throat. He was screaming.

“Nurse! Nurse, help him, Jesus, what the  _ fuck  _ is happening? Is he okay?”

“Oh goodness,” Another voice murmured, before Mikey felt a prick on his upper leg.  _ Make it stop, please, make it stop. _ Relief flooded Mikey as the throbbing was swallowed by darkness and the room turned black.

✰✰✰

When Mikey awoke, bright sunlight was pouring through the windows. He guessed that as least half the day had passed since the awful morning, and Mikey’s fingers moved instinctively to his arms at the memory. The pain was significantly less now, down to an aching pulse, and he sighed with relief before freezing.

His hands.

He’d moved his hands to his arms. Mikey had  _ moved _ . 

A yelp of excitement left his throat, catching Bob’s attention. “Mikey!” He called. “You’re awake.”

“Look, Bob! Look!” Mikey waved his arms, before throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. His feet felt odd as they touched the floor, but didn’t fail to support him as he stood. “I can  _ move!” _

“Yeah, man,” Bob nodded, looking amused. “You can scream, too.”

Mikey took a step forward, pulling his IV line with him. His legs stumbled, and he grabbed the bed railing for support before launching himself forward to the other end of the room. It only took a few rapid, jerky steps to reach the opposite wall, and he caught onto it to stop himself from falling. Mikey could do it; he could walk!

“I can walk!” Mikey was beaming, and Bob shook his head. “You scared the shit out of me earlier. What  _ happened _ ?”

Before Mikey could answer, a nurse rushed in, grabbing his arm. “Michael!” She cried, pulling him back to the bed. “No, you cannot get up. Back to bed, now!”

Someone pulling his arm . . . Mikey recognized that motion. It was what that boy had done, the one from earlier.  _ A dream?  _ Mikey’s mind proposed, but he wasn’t sure. It hadn’t felt like a dream. It had felt real.

“S-Sorry,” Mikey stammered, glancing up at the nurse anxiously. He’d been so thrilled; he’d forgotten to consider the consequences. God, he should have known better. He was so stupid. “Sorry.” He said a second time, and the nurse sighed. “You’re fine, hon. Just don’t do that again, okay? Dr. Witt will be here in a moment."

At that moment a woman rushed in, her platinum blonde hair flying behind her and her purse clutched close to her chest. She looked flustered, her makeup was untidy and her shirt was coming un-tucked. A man followed behind her, wearing a white coat and stethoscope. Mikey assumed he was Dr. Witt, but he was unsure of who the other person was.

“Mikey!” The woman exclaimed, quickly putting down her bag and reaching her hands out to hold Mikey’s face. “Oh my God, Mikey!” He flinched away from her touch, shrinking back towards the wall. Panic flooded him, and he tensed. He was doing everything wrong, he was sure of it. What was the right thing to do? What did they want him to do?

“Is he alright?” She drew back, worriedly turning to the doctor. He nodded. “It’s been an exciting couple weeks, Mrs. Way. My guess is that Michael is feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment.” Dr. Witt responded, taking a seat by Mikey’s bed. “How are you feeling, Michael?”

Mikey opened his mouth, but his words seemed to die in his throat.  _ Help, help, help. _

Dr. Witt didn’t seem phased by this, and continued down his list of questions. “Any aches, pains, or concerns?”

Mikey shook his head, and Dr. Witt stood up, putting a stethoscope to his back. “We’ve got you on quite a few pain suppressing and body support medications right now, so it’s important that you tell us if you’re experiencing anything unusual.” Dr. Witt told him, before raising his brows. “But I believe I owe you an apology, Michael; we really hadn’t expected you to regain responsiveness so soon. Even so, your severity of pain was quite unusual.”

“He was walking when I came in.” The nurse put in, and the two other adults exchanged looks of surprise. 

“Walking?” The blonde woman repeated, and the nurse made a noise on confirmation. “But what about his back?”

_ What about my back? _ Mikey wondered.  _ What’s wrong with it? _

Dr. Witt scribbled something down. “Now that Michael’s conscious, we’ll run X-rays for examination. The team hadn’t seen any signs of extreme damage when he first arrived, but we had other things to focus on that night. Either way, it’s unlikely that Michael pulled through without a scratch.”

“What happened?” Mikey asked quietly, glancing at Bob who gave him a thumbs-up. “Why am I here?”

The woman raised her brows slowly. “Can we tell him?” She asked, and Dr. Witt agreed after a moment of hesitation. “I suppose someone will have to at one point; I don’t think that memory is going to return soon.” He paused, finishing his note before putting down his folder and looking Mikey in the eye.

“Son,” Dr. Witt said, pursing his lips. “You were run over by a truck.”

**\---**

Karaoke at two am hadn’t been Lindsey Ballato’s finest idea.

Nevertheless, Gerard had found himself sitting on the floor, watching her and Hayley screech out their lungs over whiny boy-band classics that had long since gone out of style. It was quite entertaining, but if he was being honest, having Frank make snarky jokes into his ear made it all the better.

That had been, until the security had finally managed to break through the double bed barricade the group had built, and crash their party. As punishment, everyone had been put on room-arrest for twenty-four hours, and call hours had been restricted. Not that Gerard had anyone to call anyway, and Frank had been grateful for an excuse to ignore his family for another day.

It also meant Gerard wasn’t going to have a pencil today, but that was fine.

His “arrest” had been put on hold for therapy, and he found himself sitting back on the all-too-familiar grey chair in Dr. J’s office. Dr. J had been asking strange questions all week, but Gerard still managed to feel surprise when he’d brought up an unspoken topic: family.

“Excuse me?” Gerard had furrowed his brow, and Dr. J had smiled faintly. “Your family, Gerard. Do you ever think about them?”

“Not particularly.” Gerard responded, slightly confused. Why was Dr. J bringing this up all of a sudden? Had someone tried to contact him? Gerard felt a small spark of hope in his chest. “Do you know anyone in my family?” He asked quickly. “No, do any of them know I’m here?”

Dr. J grimaced slightly. “Gerard, I can’t tell you those things, I’m sorry.”

Gerard sighed in exasperation. Why bring it up then if he wasn’t going to be told anything?

“You’re feeling frustrated, Gerard.” Dr. J commented, and Gerard scoffed, irritated. “I bet no one outside this place even knows my name, do they?” He asked. Dr. J opened his mouth to speak, but Gerard continued on before he could. “Kind of sad really, I only exist inside a hospital.” He curled his lip. “I hope whoever left me for foster care is dead. There’s no other excuse for putting kid through that shit.”

“Gerard, there are many other lifestyles that would cause someone to give up a child.” Dr. J pleaded gently, but Gerard wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Like what, a prostitute?”

Dr. J didn’t respond, and Gerard almost laughed in spite of himself. “My mother’s a prostitute, huh? That’s real nice, I’m glad.” He looked down at himself, putting together a story in his head. His mother was a whore, and his father was a sleaze-ball paying for a hook-up. They were probably both homeless now (or at least Gerard hoped, otherwise business must have been going well for his mother), digging through trashcans for valuables in exchange for a quick high. They went to sleep on concrete each night – separately, of course, because they’d never spoken again after the night dollar store birth control had failed.

“No,” Dr. J spoke before Gerard’s story could progress any further. “Your mother was not a prostitute, Gerard.”

Gerard sat up in his chair, his hands on the armrests. “That was a pretty definite tone, Dr. J,” He said, eyeing the doctor, before realization suddenly hit him. “You know her!” He gasped, and Dr. J quickly tried to backpedal on his words. “Gerard, wait-”

“You’ve known who she was this whole time and you haven’t told me!” Betrayal was an awfully dramatic word, but Gerard couldn’t stop it from passing through his mind as his thoughts raced. Was his mother the one paying for his stay here? How long had Dr. J known? Why hadn’t he told Gerard? Did Gerard have other family? 

“Who is she?” Gerard was on the edge of his seat now, leaning forward. “Tell me about her!”

“Slow down, please, Gerard.” Dr. J put his hands up, before seeing the clock and heaving a sigh. “Session’s over, but we’ll talk more about this tomorrow. Please don’t come to any rash conclusions before then, Gerard.” He begged, and Gerard got up to leave. He had a  _ mom _ . Someone out there who knew about him and existed and – 

Gerard stopped mid-step.  _ Your mother was not a prostitute, Gerard. _ There it was: past tense.  _ Was  _ not a prostitute, Gerard. Fuck, what did that mean?  _ Was _ not prostitute when she’d given Gerard away at five years old? Or  _ was _ not a prostitute because she was dead?

_ Please don’t come to any rash conclusions before tomorrow, Gerard. _

Gerard took a deep breath, focusing on the words for a moment. He wasn’t going to make any assumptions until he knew for sure. 

His thoughts were quickly interrupted by a muffled noise. Gerard turned down the hall to see another patient standing rigidly, as if cornered. “Ray? What’s up?” He asked, and Ray shook his head.

“The bugs!” He replied miserably. “They’re everywhere, and they’re blocking me from getting into my room.”

Gerard frowned. Ray had been here for a while, two years if Gerard remembered correctly. When he’d first come to Gerard’s unit, he’d just graduated from intensive care. The two had gotten along fairly well after discovering their similar tastes in music. Unlike most patients, Ray hadn’t been allowed to bring any CDs or iPods from home, but Gerard had a radio at the time and they had listened to together. They’d had some disagreement that had left them not quite as close of friends at the time of Ray’s relapse, but now he had returned to the unit once again, meaning he  _ should  _ have improved.

“I don’t see any bugs,” Gerard said, and Ray nodded. “I know.”

Gerard stood there for a moment in silence. Well, at least Ray was better if he knew the bugs were delusions. “I just really want to go to my room, and I can’t.” Ray sighed, just as a nurse entered the hallway.

“Ray!” He called, relief in his voice. “You have to stay in your room, today! Where’d you go? We’ve been looking for you for ten minutes now.”

Deciding that Ray was now covered, Gerard continued his walk back to his room. 

He paused when he reached the door, before turning the handle slowly and walking in. Gerard had always kept his shades down on the glass windows between his room and the hallway, but it was different now that he shared the room. Before he could run in and out whenever, but now he had to think about it, to make sure it was what he wanted to do.

As Gerard entered, he was met by the sight of Frank, accompanied by a very irritable looking nurse radiating the “I don’t get paid enough for this” aura. “Oh great, now  _ he’s  _ here.” The nurse snapped as she saw Gerard, making him grin. “How about you make yourself useful for once and convince your friend here to eat?” She suggested sourly, and Gerard shrugged. “I’ll consider it,” He teased. “Depends how much you’ll pay me.”

“ _ Or _ ,” Frank interjected, holding out his plate and biting back a laugh. “You could eat this sandwich.” 

Gerard accepted the second proposal, and the nurse spluttered out a, “You can’t do that! You can’t interfere with another patient’s treatment plan!”

“You had no problem with me interfering a moment earlier.” Gerard pointed out, before studying the bread in his hands. “Plus, I’m saving this one for the pigeons, so if you have any complaints you can bring it up with them.”

“Pigeons?” Frank wondered, and Gerard nodded. “Yeah, the ones out on the smoking deck. They’re always hungry.”

The nurse grumbled something under her breath as she pulled out a few sheets of paper, handing them to the boys accordingly. “I’ll be back to pick up the surveys later.” She told them before walking out, carrying the food tray with her.

“Finally!” Frank exhaled as the door shut behind her, and lay down on his bed. “I’ve been waiting all morning for that woman to leave.” 

“We have a floor meeting tomorrow.” Gerard commented as Frank looked through his papers, before asking. “What’s that? Are they bad?”

Gerard shrugged. “Could be worse. Better than group therapy, though.”

“Christ, do we have those?” Frank moaned, before shouting. “No! They made my piss hour at three am!”

“They what?” Gerard laughed, not understanding anything Frank had just said.

“I get to use the bathroom fucking four times a day, and they chose to make one of them at three am!” He shook his head, looking so comically disgusted that Gerard wanted to smile. “I swear to God if they try and wake me up at an unholy hour to listen to me pee I will  _ murder  _ them with a chainsaw.”

“Wait, can we go back to the word piss hour?” Gerard laughed, and Frank rolled his eyes. “It was my dad’s saying; he used it back in the Navy or something.”

“Your dad was in the Navy?” Gerard asked, and Frank nodded slightly. “Still is.” He yawned, stretching out his arms before adding, “It’s sort of the only thing I know about him. Not that he lives away from home or anything, but it’s his own personality trait in my opinion.”

A moment passed, before Gerard asked quietly, “Why don’t you want to talk to your parents, Frank?”

“Because they’re assholes.” Frank replied plainly. “Why, does it matter?” 

“I don’t know,” Gerard pulled up a pillow under his head so he could face the boy across the room. “I just don’t understand how you could want to ignore someone who cares about you?”

Frank laughed, but his expression was cold. “They don’t care about me, Gerard. I’m an object to them, and I’d be happy to get rid of them.” Frank scoffed, before his face fell completely. “Oh, shit,” He said in realization, maybe even in apology. “That was a pretty dick thing of me to say, wasn’t it?”

“Uh, yes,” Gerard said dramatically, pretending to look hurt before breaking into a wide smile. “Nah, it’s fine, Frank. I don’t care.”

“Jesus, good,” Frank breathed, before asking, “Where did you go before residential? I mean, assuming you didn’t just come from another facility.”

“I was in foster care since I was five.” Gerard said. “Then I got moved to a group home until I was eleven, then here.”

Frank nodded thoughtfully. “What was that like? Do you remember your parents at all? I mean, five’s pretty old.”

Gerard smirked a little at all of Frank’s questions, but answered them anyway. “I don’t remember a ton, but there was this one boy who was pretty cool. There were a lot of kids in the group home, but he and I hung out a lot. And as for my parents,” Gerard paused, sobering. He didn’t like thinking about this. These were the memories he’d pushed away or forgotten in years of foster care and therapy, but here he was, pulling them out again. “I don’t know. I remember a lot of yelling, and uh,” He pointed to his nose, chuckling. It took Frank a moment to realize he was pointing to the scar on it, and his eyes went round when he did.

“They gave you  _ that _ ?” Frank said, in slight disbelief. “Why?”

“Can’t remember,” Gerard replied, which wasn’t the truth, but he  _ really  _ didn’t want to think about that right now, and quite frankly he’d had enough. Thankfully, he was saved by Lindsey, who happened to pop into the room right at that moment.

“Hey, Gerard!” Lindsey called, closing the door quickly after Hayley had followed her in. “Frank,” Hayley waved at them both, and Frank shot them a skeptical glance.

“We’ve been going from room to room all day.” Lindsey explained. “So far, Brendon’s bouncing off the walls, Ryan’s depression-hibernating again, and Ray’s missing. Pretty boring stuff, maybe you’re doing something more interesting?” Her tone was hopeful.

“How did both of you manage to get out of your room?” Gerard asked, and then hesitated. “Wait, do I want to know?

“No,” Hayley said, as Lindsey replied, “Sure!” simultaneously.

“Look at what Hayley got in a care package!” Lindsey said suddenly, her hair falling into her eyes as she reached into a bag she was holding, pulling out a small jar.

“Please tell me those are drugs.” Frank said, and Lindsey sighed. “Brother, I  _ wish.  _ All I want is some good weed. And vodka.”

Frank made an executive decision not to tell her about Gerard’s supply. He’d thought he had spotted a few bottles of substances other than beer, but it wasn’t his place to talk.

“But. . .” Lindsey opened the bag, pouring out the contents on the floor. It left a small sparkling pile below it, and Gerard wrinkled his nose. “Glitter?”

“Yes, only  _ thirty  _ jars of it,” Hayley said. She was definitely the more laid back of the two, but not a quiet or shy girl by any means. “It was for my birthday; my sister’s idea.”

“Do you know what this means?” Lindsey was practically bouncing up and down. “The possibilities are endless!” She jumped onto Gerard’s bed, before leaping onto Frank’s. “ _ Whoa _ , it’s soft!” Lindsey dropped to her knees to examine the blankets. “Why’s it soft?”

“None of your business,” Gerard poked out his tongue playfully, and Frank thanked him internally. 

“Damn, maybe I can try it out sometime.” Lindsey winked suggestively at Frank, leaning slightly to the side. “You wish,” Frank muttered, and Gerard pulled Lindsey up by her arm. “Alright, time to go.”

“But what will I do with the glitter?” Lindsey whined, and Gerard shrugged, suggesting, “Fill the water fountains with it.”

“That’s  _ genius _ !” Lindsey gasped.

“You sure there were no drugs in there?” Frank asked Hayley, who folded her arms. “My sister may have snuck in some stuff.”

“Not acid again, right?” Gerard asked, and Hayley shook her head. “No way,” She assured him. “I think we all learned our lesson from last time.” 

“Come on, Hayley!” Lindsey ran out of the room before Frank could ask about “last time,” and Hayley followed, laughing.

“Fuck, I wish I could get some of whatever  _ she’s _ on,” Frank rolled his eyes, and Gerard laughed. “A little ecstasy takes that girl a far way.” He said, before ducking under his bed to grab a drink.

Frank sighed.

**\---**

Mikey had never known the world could look like this.

He hadn’t known anything was out of the ordinary, of course, until he’d put them on, but he was amazed nonetheless. This was incredible! Everything was different; clear and defined.

“Glasses make it a little easier, huh?” Dr. Witt asked good-humoredly, and Mikey nodded with enthusiasm. He’d spent the morning with a physical therapist, examining his back (he still wasn’t sure what was wrong with it, but the doctor hadn’t seemed to know either), before going to the radiology lab for X-rays. It was his first time out of his room since his arrival, and even though he’d had to be pushed in a wheelchair, it had been a rather fascinating experience. The hospital was  _ so big  _ and there were so many people here! Bob said he didn’t know any of them when Mikey had asked, and Mikey had wanted to talk to them himself but Dr. Witt had told him it was probably best if he didn’t.

“Not all the patients here are mentally . . . stable, Michael.” Dr. Witt had said as they’d walked and Mikey wheeled, picking his words slowly. “You shouldn’t encounter or have a chance to interact with any of them during your stay here, but it’s good knowledge now that you’re out and about. Every now and then one will get out and wreak havoc until someone catches them again. I swear, you’d almost think they do it for fun,” Dr. Witt shook his head. “I’d tell you how to respond if you  _ did  _ meet one, but I think you know more about that than me.”

Which Mikey did not, but he kept his mouth shut anyway. 

“Michael,” Dr. Witt spoke suddenly, drawing Mikey’s attention back to the present. “I have another patient I’ve got to go meet with so I’d better run. See you tomorrow,”

“Okay,” Mikey smiled a little, before turning to Bob. The other boy was on his phone, as usual. The only times he wasn’t on the small device was when he left for the cafeteria, was sleeping, or was at school (another thing Mikey had yet to experience).

“Bob,” He whispered loudly, and Bob glanced up. “What’s up?”

“I can  _ see _ !” Mikey was still whispering, and pointed to his glasses as he did so. Bob mouthed an exaggerated  _ wow _ , laughing a little. “Yeah, I heard, dude. Where’d you think I’ve been this whole time?”

“I don’t know!” Mikey got off his bed, walking over to the sink. He was only allowed out of bed to use the room’s tiny bathroom in the back corner, and to wash his hands. He hoped that looking at his reflection in the mirror counted as washing his hands as he leaned forward, messing his hair around with his fingers. 

“You need a haircut,” Bob observed, and Mikey shrugged noncommittally. Maybe he did, he wasn’t sure. He looked okay in the mirror; his eyes looked tired and his hair was a wreck, but overall everything was fine.

That was, until he moved his hands down to his neck. His fingers caught on a surface unlike the rest of the smooth skin, and he stopped. Pushing the hair away from the side of his face, Mikey revealed his ear – torn and shredded. Small lightning bolts of scars ran down the side of his neck, stopping before his collarbone. They were pale white in some places, but angry and red in others.

What on Earth?

“B-Bob,” Mikey said, slowing his words in an attempt not to stutter. Bob let out a huff. “What, Mikey – ” He stopped short as he looked over at the boy, his hair held away from his neck. “Whoa, dude,”

“What are they?” Mikey asked, running a finger along one of the lines. They didn’t seem like they were supposed to be there, but they weren’t painful either.

“Uh, scars?” Bob suggested, before sitting up a little. “Get over here, lemme see,”

Mikey complied, tilting his head for examination and staying still as Bob looked over them. Bob released a long breath, his brows shooting high on his face. “It’s almost like a paint ball exploded on your neck or something.” He said, and Mikey pulled back, letting his hair fall again. “Paintball?” He asked, and Bob sighed. “That’s unimportant. Does it hurt?”

“No,” Mikey answered, and Bob shrugged. “I guess that’s all that matters, then.” He replied, and the room fell silent. Mikey went back to his bed, laying down silently, before asking, “Can you tell me about paintball?”

“Paintball?” Bob chuckled, before nodding. “Alright, yeah. So, you’re given these guns – You know what guns are, right?”

Guns – the policemen had guns. Mikey had guns. Maria had a gun. Oh, yes, he knew guns.

“Yeah,” Mikey responded, and Bob continued. “Okay, so they’re filled with these fake bullets full of colored paint, and you shoot them at other people. If you hit someone else, you’re out.”

Guns. The word wouldn’t leave Mikey’s mind. Guns hidden under pillows, guns in black backpacks, guns being pressed into his palms, into his bag, into his head –

“But there are rules too,” Bob rambled on. “You can’t just walk up to someone and shoot them in the neck whenever you feel like it. There’s a minimum distance you can shoot from, otherwise it hurts like fuck.”

Maria had a gun. Maria had a gun but she never used it. Why did she leave it there? Why did she leave it where Mikey could find it? Well, not just Mikey. Mikey and –

“There’s gear they make you wear, but it’s basically just a helmet. Don’t open fire though, no blind shooting.”

Now Mikey was running. He was running but he was still in his hospital bed and someone was with him but they were leaving. They were leaving him to run by himself and, God, he was always running and it never seemed to end –

“Guns,” Mikey gasped out, and Bob paused. “What?”

“This thing,” Mikey pulled up his hair, pointing to his neck. “Is that from a gun? Did a gun do that?”

Bob’s smile died. “I, uh, I don’t know, Mikey.” He’d grown quiet. “I’m not a doctor.”

“But you said it looked like a paintball, right?” Mikey pressed. “Paintballs are from paintball guns. What about regular guns? They can do this, right?”

“Mikey,” Bob said uncomfortably. “I don’t know if you want the answer to that.”

✰✰✰

They were back.

The hands – they were choking Mikey. Pressing tighter and tighter until he couldn’t breath. Icy fingers were clawing at his jaw and neck, ripping their fingernails down the scars that zigzagged across him. Mikey was covered in scars now, their spindly white pattern spreading across his skin. They felt like vines, wrapping around his limbs and pulling. He was covered in something else, too. A dark scarlet liquid - seeping out from under the vines that entangled him.

_ Blood _ , Mikey realized with a sickening lurch, and stomach felt as if it had leaped into his throat. Blood coming out from the paintball-wound. Mikey felt his hands go instinctively to his ear, and he pulled away to find his fingers coated in the liquid.

Before he could do anything else, a loud shout awoke Mikey.

He sat up quickly, startled. He was back in the hospital, sitting in his room on his bed. Mikey checked his legs for scars and fingers for blood, but found neither. With a sigh of relief, he decided it had just been a nightmare. Suddenly, the nose that awoke him sounded again. It seemed to be coming from outside.

Bob was still asleep, and Mikey contemplated awaking him before tossing the idea. No, he’d let Bob sleep for now.

Prying up the old, stiff shade, Mikey squinted his eyes to look out the hospital window. Remembering his glasses, Mikey threw them on quickly.  _ Much better.  _ He saw bright flashing lights down below, and his immediate thought went to the police. After a moment he realized it wasn’t them, though. Policemen didn’t blast music.

This wasn’t a crime scene, this was a party.

Mikey pressed his forehead to the cold glass, looking down. It was a party full of kids – maybe his age, probably older – across the street from the hospital.  _ A college, maybe? _

Mikey surprised himself with his own knowledge. A college; what was that? A school – he knew that for sure. A school for kids older than him, after high school. Had he gone to high school?

The excited shout came again, but this time Mikey wasn’t startled. It was a happy shout, he knew that. Another sigh escaped his lips, and Mikey was surprised to find himself wanting to be down there. But why? He’d never been to a party before. What would he do down there?

_ Everything I can’t do here _ , Mikey realized. He was trapped, wasn’t he? It wasn’t like he could just walk out of this building; he’d be caught and put back in this room like the “mentally unstable” patients Dr. Witt had referred to.

Mikey was imprisoned here – at least for the time being – and he didn’t even know how he got here in the first place. He didn’t deserve to be stuck here, in this uncomfortable bed, overthinking his life. He should be down there, with other kids, doing normal things.

Mikey lay down, pulling the covers up and curling into a ball. It was going to be a long night. 

**\---**

Frank had not been happy to wake up this morning.

He was tired, he was cold, and everything ached. Frank didn’t want to get out of bed, much less get his vitals taken, but alas, he found himself back in the exam room, where he supposed he was going to be fairly regularly. 

He’d witnessed a few remnants of Lindsey’s glitter rampage in the halls, followed by extensive, shimmery trails leading from doorway to doorway. Frank passed a few water fountains as well, pushing one out of curiosity. Sure enough, glitter was spat out.

“You’re down another pound.” The nurse commented, catching Frank’s attention back in the exam room. This nurse was a younger guy, and Frank wondered if he could pull some shit with him. Then again, he was pretty sure he’d be too tired to accomplish anything even if he tried. 

“I didn’t sleep well,” Frank said plainly, shrugging off the hospital gown as he stepped off the scale. “And I don’t get enough water. The only drink they give me here is Ensure.”

“Which is what you need.” The nurse’s frown deepened as he compared two separate sheets of paper. “Oh,” He said after a moment, and Frank looked at him. “What?”

“Your BMI,” The nurse said, and Frank’s heart dropped. No,  _ fuck. _

“It’s in the thirteens, Frank,” He shook his head, entering something into the computer. Frank felt his hands clench and unclench into fists as he tried to stop them from trembling. Fuck, this was stupid! He needed to get out of this fucking place, now.

“I don’t need to be tube fed,” Frank stated, digging his fingernails into the hem of his blanket. “It’s not my fault, I didn’t sleep well." He insisted, trying desperately to convince the nurse. “I’ll be back up to fourteen by tomorrow.” 

“Yes, you will,” The nurse smiled faintly. “With the help of the tube.” 

Frank wanted to hit him. 

✰✰✰

It had hurt like it always did, and Frank had returned to his room to sulk for the next hour after the tube had been placed. 

There was a nurse sent to supervise him so he didn’t mess with the tube, and Frank had made a point of ignoring them the whole time up until the moment they left, which happened to be the moment Gerard came back from breakfast.

Gerard ate breakfast much later than Frank did (or  _ had _ , since Frank got it from the tube now), so Frank knew who it was as he entered.

“Hey,” Gerard said nonchalantly as he entered, before noticing the NG tube and stopping abruptly. “Holy shit,” He raised his brows, and Frank scoffed. “Yeah, I know. Lucky me.”

“Fuck,” Gerard drew out the word as he walked over, pausing to get Frank’s nod of approval before sitting next to him on the bed. “Do you mind if I check it out?” He asked, and Frank shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Gerard looked over his face, the tape on his cheek, and the fluid bag hanging next to him. Frank sat still, trying not to think about the dull ache in his nose and throat. It felt like a sore throat on steroids. After a few moments of examination, Gerard asked, “How does it work? I mean, I’ve seen people being tube-fed before, but from a distance.”

Frank opened his mouth in reply, tilting his jaw so Gerard could see the clear plastic line in the back of his throat. He kept his face like that for a brief second, before becoming aware of how close his face was to Gerard’s and snapping his mouth shut quickly. A pale red color involuntarily spread across his cheeks, but Gerard didn’t seem to notice.

“Isn’t it painful?” Gerard asked in awe, and Frank deliberated for a moment before answering, “I guess.” The truth was  _ yes _ , it hurt like  _ fuck _ , but Frank didn’t feel like whining. There was nothing Gerard could do, anyway.

“Does it taste like anything?” Gerard looked at the bag hanging by Frank’s bed, and Frank shook his head. “No - well, sort of. You can taste something, but it’s not like eating.”

Before Gerard could respond, a nurse walked by their door. “Floor meeting, gentlemen!” She almost walked off, before noticing Frank’s tube and walking over to detach it for him. “There you go!” She smiled at him, and Frank decided not to thank her for doing the one thing had not only been wanting to do for the past few hours but was capable of doing himself.

“You ready?” Gerard asked, before lowering his voice so the nurse wouldn’t hear. “These things suck ass.”

“Oh, great.” Frank almost smiled.

✰✰✰

Floor meetings hadn’t been quite what Frank had expected.

They were run by a middle-aged woman, who insisted that every unit give one complaint and one compliment. Although Frank was still one of the thinnest ones there, he was grateful to find himself not being stared at. There were plenty of other anorexic patients in the room wearing short sleeves or V-necks, and the attention was quickly taken off him in his oversized clothing. He still received looks for the fucking feeding tube hanging off his face, but he wasn’t the only one with one here.

While they went around the room, Frank singled out four units on their floor. There were rehab patients (Frank guessed they had all just been admitted that week by the looks of them), delusional or psychotic patients (but very mild, Frank supposed the patients experiencing severe symptoms didn’t get their opinions heard), refeeding patients (Frank recognized them from his meal sessions and realized the hospital probably split the eating-disorder recovery section into two groups; those who were attempting recovery and those who were resisting. This group was inarguable the resisting one), and lastly, the unit Frank was in.

During his therapy session earlier, Frank had asked his therapist about the unit he was in. He hadn’t understood why he hadn’t been put with the other eating-disordered patients. Then again, what did Frank understand about this hospital?

She’d responded by telling Frank that firstly, his parents had requested him not to be put in a unit with other patients like him, and secondly, this unit had quarter-hourly rounds. No other place had that frequent of monetization, and the next step up was 24/7 watch, but she’d assumed Frank hadn’t needed that. Apparently his ward was simply General Emergency Two, with One being patients requiring hourly rounds, and Three being under 24/7 watch.

The addicts were halfway through complaining about the air conditioning (which was  _ way  _ too high in Frank’s opinion, but they seemed to have an issue with everything) when he’d been tapped on the shoulder.

“Frank, your parents are on the line.” The nurse said. “Come with me, please. They say it’s important.”

To his parents, important could be a messed up order at a restaurant, but Frank complied anyway, following the nurse. Gerard shot him a questioning look as he got off the couch, and Frank mouthed “parents” before leaving. 

Who knew? Maybe they were calling to take Frank home.

Frank could have laughed at the thought, and he grinned to himself as he walked with his head down through the linoleum hallways.

**\---**

Alright, Gerard didn’t  _ like  _ Frank.

He was a nice guy, of course, but Gerard was just putting up with him. Sure, they talked, but it wasn’t anything important. He didn’t even really want to share a room in the first place, especially not with some guy who had a fucking piece of plastic shoved down his nose. He didn’t like Frank, Hell, maybe he even hated the guy!

And with all that hate, Gerard was _definitely_ _not_ finding himself staring at Frank’s sleeping figure well past midnight, wondering what his lips would feel like against his own.

He defended himself, saying that it was a  _ totally fine  _ and  _ normal  _ thought to have, and he was definitely able to wonder about things without anything going any further. The curiosity of what would happen if he kissed Frank right now wouldn’t leave his mind, but Gerard knew he couldn’t do that because Frank was straight and fuck, it wasn’t like either of them was going to leave this place anytime soon. Gerard didn’t want things to be awkward with Frank for the next who knows how many months, so he pointedly turned to face the wall, forcing his eyes shut.

It was probably better if he just forgot about it.

✰✰✰

“Because of yesterday, Gerard, I’ve decided to give you this.” Dr. J handed Gerard a small fold of paper, and he took it slowly, unfolding it to find a photo of a woman with her face scribbled out. 

After their floor meeting, Gerard had left for his therapy session. Frank had left part-way through, using the word “parents” as his only form of explanation. Gerard wasn’t sure what that had meant, but he supposed if it was anything of importance Frank would tell him later.

“Who is this?” Gerard asked, smoothing out the paper’s creases with his thumb. “And what happened to the photo?”

“It’s your mother,” Dr. J said, almost excitedly, and Gerard looked at him skeptically. “My biological mother?” He asked, and Dr. J nodded.

“You gave me a photo of my mom,” Gerard began, holding up the photo. “But colored on it? Why bother giving me a photo in the first place if I can’t see what she looks like?” He wasn’t angry, per say, but fairly irritated. Was he being teased? What purpose did a messed up photo serve? “In all honesty, Gerard,” Dr. J admitted. “I wasn’t sure if you were ready to see a full photo of her.” 

“Why?” Gerard asked, and Dr. J tilted his head. “It’s a pretty big deal, Gerard. Haven’t you spent years wondering what she looks like? Wouldn’t seeing her face bring up old memories? Wouldn’t there be emotion connected to a full image of her?”

Gerard paused at this. He remembered being hit. He remembered being yelled at. He remembered being scared. And while he barely remembered their faces (if it all), he  _ did  _ remember that his mom did not have blonde hair.

“That’s not my mom.” Gerard said suddenly, and Dr. J was taken aback. “What do you mean, Gerard?”

“My mother had red hair,” Gerard furrowed his brow, trying to think. “And my father had brown.”

“People change their hair color often, Gerard,” Dr. J said, but he sounded uneasy. “No,” Gerard insisted. “She’d never dye it blonde. Her hair was red.”

“Well,” Dr. J wrung his hands. “I suppose,”

Suppose what?  _ Maybe it’s not your mother, then.  _ Gerard sat back in his chair, folding his arms.  _ Of course it’s not, Gerard. It was stupid of you to think you had one.  _ If he’d had a living, caring mother, she would have visited him years ago. She would have sent some sort of sign after he’d been admitted, telling him she was paying for his treatment, that it was going to be all right, that she loved him . . .

_ But she didn’t,  _ Gerard reminded himself quickly, the realization stinging like an old cut.  _ She didn’t love you. You don’t do things like that to people you love.  _

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling right now, Gerard?” Dr. J asked. Gerard felt a prick of annoyance at the question, but answered regardless.

“Yeah, I’m feeling alone.” He lowered his gaze, finding a sudden fascination with his fingernails. He hoped Dr. J didn’t think he cared about this or anything, because he didn’t. “I have no family, or not any that wants be around, and the only people I have any form of relationship with are in a home for crazy people for God’s sake.”

“Gerard, this isn’t a ‘home for crazy people,’ you know that.” Dr. J said softly, and Gerard rolled his eyes. “Then why’s it full of them? You don’t understand what it’s like,”

“Could you help me understand?” Dr J. looked almost sympathetic now, and Gerard frowned. He didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. 

“Well, where do you go after this?” Gerard asked, and Dr. J raised his brows slightly. “After I finish with my patients on this floor, I go downstairs and make my rounds there.” He answered.

“And after that?”

“I go home.”

“Exactly,” Gerard nodded. “You go home. That’s what makes us so different, Dr. J. Do you know where my home is?”

“Gerard, I-”

“No,” Gerard snapped, cutting him off. “You don’t. Because I don’t have one. Did you have a nice birthday this year, Doctor? Did your family come and visit?”

“Please, listen to me,” Dr. J pleaded with him, but Gerard was a roll now. He didn’t want to be stopped. “Do you know how many birthday parties I’ve had?” Gerard asked, surprised by the anger in his voice. “Do you know how much of my family came to visit?” Gerard had never even considered the possibility of birthdays before; they’d never been a big deal to him before. For all he knew, his birthday was just a number made up by his parents who couldn’t have cared less about the dates on his birth certificate. God, why were things like this? He wanted to be fucking normal and go to school again and get a car and have friends, just like everyone else. “I have no one!”

“You have a brother,” Dr. J admitted suddenly, bracing himself incase Gerard wasn’t finished. 

“Sure, okay.” Gerard rolled his eyes. He wasn’t falling for this again. “Why don’t you give me a messed up photo of him, too?”

“Gerard, he’s real,” Dr. J said. “And he’s in this building.”

Gerard stopped, pausing to think for a moment. “No, he’s not.” He decided, but Dr. J shook his head. “I swear on my life.”

“Prove it.” Gerard tilted his chin up at him. “What’s his name?”

“If I tell you that, then you’re going to walk right out of this room and go find him, and I can’t allow that.” Dr. J explained, and Gerard frowned. They had to have the same last name, didn’t they? There couldn’t be too many other Ways, maybe if he asked around someone might know.

“How many patients are in this building?” Gerard asked, and Dr. J chuckled. “Over two-thousand, Gerard, not including people in DHP or other outpatient programs.”

Fuck, that was a lot. He’d have to find another solution.

And as the session ended and Gerard walked down to lunch, he found himself feeling lighter than normal. He wasn’t alone; he had someone. A brother. There was a boy in this hellhole that shared the same blood as him, who had the same mother and father. Maybe he knew what Gerard was going through.  _ He’s in this hospital, isn’t he?  _ Gerard wondered.  _ Maybe he’s a fuck up, too. _

Gerard had shared that first household with many other kids, but only a few of them were sent to the same group home with him. As far as Gerard knew, none of them were fully related to him. He’d had plenty of half-siblings, but Dr. J hadn’t said half-brother. He’d said  _ brother _ . And Gerard didn’t remember having a brother with the same father, so he guessed he’d never met this boy. 

Well, he did remember having  _ one  _ brother, but surely it wasn’t . . . 

No, it couldn’t be.  _ He’s gone, Gerard.  _ He told himself firmly, brushing the thought away.  _ It’s not him.  _

**\---**

They were arguing again.

A bottle smashed by Mikey’s head and he ducked, hiding his face between his knees. The table above him mostly shielded him from the line of fire, but every now and then a stray object would make it under. 

“I am  _ so done _ with your bullshit, you pervert!” A voice screamed, and Mikey plugged his ears to no avail. How could people be so loud? Mikey didn’t think he even was capable of making a noise to that extent.

“Oh, go fuck yourself!” The other voice shouted back, followed by more objects breaking. “You don’t think I know about what you do?” The sound of chairs falling crashed around him, and Mikey watched someone quietly push a cracked piece of wood away from him out of the corner of his eye. He was vaguely aware of the three people behind him, but his vision was too blocked to know more. He could feel them shaking next to him, and after a moment he could feel himself shaking, too.

Suddenly the voices became slightly muffled, and Mikey felt a tug of the hood of his jacket as the other three kids scrambled out from under the table. Mikey followed them hastily, realizing that the shouting people must have gone into another room.

He ran after the kids, ducking under broken shelves and fallen furniture until they came to a stop in a crawl space under the stairs, where they packed in tightly. The sound of rapid breathing filled the tiny room, and darkness swallowed the edges ominously. Mikey didn’t like it, but he had no other choice but to stay still, his knees pulled tight to his chest in the cramped area. Even with his eyes closed and hands over his ears, he could hear the voices faintly now.

“You told him? Why would you tell him?”

“Donna, I think it was important he knew. The kid’s been thinking he had no family for years!”

“He’s not a kid, don’t call him that.”

Mikey paused. The arguing voices sounded different than the ones before.

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve done anything to help him his whole life.”

The female voice became furious now; Mikey didn’t have to see her face to know the expression of rage it held. “Nothing to help him? Are you  _ kidding _ me? He’s barely my child, I was never trying to become a mother! You of all people should know that.”

“The least you could do is let him know about his own brother.”

“The least I could do is get him the liver he needs, which I almost did! Mikey was probably the closest thing to a donor we’re ever going to get. How much have you done for his liver, exactly?”

“His liver is not my personal priority.”

“His liver could kill him!”

Mikey blinked his eyes awake slowly, rubbing the sleep out of them roughly as he sat up. The room spun a little, and he grabbed the railing of his bed to stop himself from falling. He was faintly aware of someone calling for a nurse, before a hand was on his shoulder, guiding him back to a laying position.

“Easy there,” The nurse said, and Mikey shook his head. “What happened?”

“We’ve got you on some new meds,” She smiled apologetically. “Makes you a little dizzy, I know.”

“Why?” Mikey mumbled, and Bob shot in, “So you don’t wake up screaming bloody murder, again.”

Mikey made a small noise of agreement before letting his eyes close. His head seemed to be clearing slightly, but at an extremely slow rate. He did  _ not  _ like this. “Can we stop this medicine?” Mikey was vaguely aware of his words slurring as the nurse answered, “I’ll bring it up with your doctor.”

“Thank you,” He nodded, before asking, “Are you going to take my liver now?”

“What?” The nurse asked, and the blonde woman spoke up quickly. “Oh, nothing. We were just talking about that before you came in.”

“Who’s liver  _ are  _ you taking?” The world was swimming in and out now, and Mikey was fairly sure he was going to fall asleep at any moment now.

“No one’s liver is being taken, sweetheart,” The nurse assured him, and Mikey smiled. “O-Okay.”

✰✰✰

Mikey awoke again later, feeling less dizzy but not any less confused than before.

There were other people in the room now, chatting casually and laughing with Bob. Mikey noticed a new bag by the other boy’s bed, but didn’t have a chance to examine it further before Bob noticed he was awake. “Hey, Mikey!” He called, and Mikey yawned, rubbing his arms as Bob introduced him to the two boys by his bed.

“These are my friends, Dean and Lance,” Bob said, before turning to gesture at him. “And that’s Mikey.”

The two boys gave Mikey enthusiastic greetings which he returned weakly, raising his hand in a half-wave. “That’s a lot of needles stuck in you,” Lance commented. He had curly black hair, and looked a little younger than Bob. Mikey couldn’t help but notice the hospital band on his wrist.

“Ours our different colors,” Mikey said, holding out his arm. “Mine’s yellow.”

“Yeah, that’s because we’re on different floors,” Dean explained, pointing to his purple wristband. His long brown hair fell into his eyes, and he pushed it away with one hand. Mikey saw patches of pale skin revealed by his fingers, and he looked away quickly. “Dumbasses put Bob on the wrong floor. They shoulda known to put him with us!”

“This is a children’s hospital, not summer camp, Dean.” Bob scoffed, and Dean laughed. “Doesn’t matter. We’re gonna come and visit you as often as we can, but you better start responding to my snaps, you dick!” He punched Bob’s arm playfully, making Bob reach out and head-lock him for a moment. “How the fuck am I supposed to respond to photos of your ceiling?” Bob asked, and Dean said, “With photos of  _ your  _ ceiling!” 

“Shit, we’ve got to go.” Lance said, and Dean sat up, freeing himself from Bob’s grasp. “Catch you around!”

“Bye,” Bob rolled his eyes as they walked out. Mikey watched them until they were out of sight, before asking Bob what was in the bag.

“This bag?” Bob asked, pointing to the new one by his bed. Mikey nodded.

“Fuck, how’d you even see that?” Bob shook his head, and Mikey wanted to point out that it was just sitting on the floor where anyone could see it, but decided not to. “What’s in it?”

“Stuff,” Bob replied with a slight grin, before lowering his voice. “Some e-cigs and juuls. It’s probably not exciting to you since you haven’t been here long, but trust me, as time goes on it will. These things have their value when there’s a smoke detector every ten feet.”

Bob was right, Mikey wasn’t excited because he didn’t have a clue what a juul was. He knew about e-cigarettes, but he didn’t smoke, did he?

Mikey thought about it for a moment, before concluding that in fact, he  _ did  _ smoke cigarettes. He knew how they felt in your fingers, how to hold one in your lips when you’re trying to light it, how to breathe it in and stomp it out once you’re done.

He’d probably never be able to get his hands on one, though. Bob had just said there were smoke detectors everywhere, and it wasn’t like Mikey had any money anyway. He also doubted he had friends that would bring some in for him. Well, he doubted that he had friends in the first place.

This drew Mikey to a strange realization as he sat there in his bed, his fingers wringing together slowly. Who did Mikey know? He knew Bob, Dr. Witt, the nurses, the blonde woman, Bob’s friends, the kids under the table, the policemen. . . that was a lot, wasn’t it? He nodded to himself slowly. Yeah, it was a lot.

“Are we friends, Bob?” Mikey asked Bob, who now had a long piece of plastic in his mouth as he tapped something out on his phone. “Friends?” Bob asked, confused, before replying, “Sure, Mikey. We’re friends. Why?”

Mikey opened his mouth to respond, but just then the blonde woman came in. “You’re awake!” She smiled, and Mikey flinched back a little from her loud voice. So far he hadn’t particularity found himself liking this woman. “Sorry,” She said, quieter this time. Mikey smiled a little, which seemed to make her happy.

“You know, Dr. Witt told me your hearing might be a little more sensitive now. I’ll talk quieter from now on, okay?” The woman told him. “To be honest, I’m just relieved you can hear out of that ear.”

His ear? The paint-ball one?  _ How does she know about that?  _ “W-Who told you about my-my – ?” Mikey felt like his tongue was made of paper as he tried to force words out. He couldn’t tell if his stutter had come back from his new medication, or if it was from being nervous. Either way, it was really making things difficult and he wished it would go away.

“Your ear?” The woman guessed, and Mikey nodded mutely. The woman sighed sadly, sitting down on a chair. “Oh, Mikey,” She rubbed her hands over her face, and Mikey wasn’t sure what to do next.

Bob murmured something about having to use the bathroom as he got up and left for what Mikey suspected was to give him and this lady privacy. He didn’t  _ want  _ privacy though, and he didn’t want to be left alone. “Are you okay?” He managed to spit out after a moment, despite the fact his mouth seemed to want to stay glued shut.

“Yes, Mikey,” The woman nodded, not taking her hands away from her face.

“Oh,” Mikey bit his lip. Silence hung between the two, and the sound of heart-monitors and oxygen tanks filled the room. A cart full of medicine squeaked past their door, and Mikey glanced at it forlornly before asking the woman quietly, “Who are you?”

“Jesus Christ, I - ” The woman pulled her fingers through her hair, and Mikey fidgeted in anxiety. He hated this, why couldn’t she leave? Who was she anyway, and why wouldn’t she leave him alone?

“I’m Donna.” The lady said finally, pausing to smooth her shirt before settling back down. “Okay,” Mikey replied. Well, that hadn’t solved anything. He still didn’t have a clue who Donna was, or why she insisted on visiting him.

“Do you – _ Fuck _ , I can’t do this right now.” Donna muttered the last part under her breath, as she stood up and grabbed her purse. “I’m sorry, Mikey. See you tomorrow,” She said quickly before pacing out the door, leaving Mikey alone and very, very confused.

**\---**

Frank was ready to kill someone.

He could picture it now; grabbing someone with his hands and jamming his thumbs into their throat. He’d use knife, and a gun, and – Alright, maybe he was being a little extreme.

Perhaps punching a wall would be more accurate, because that’s exactly what Frank would do right now if he didn’t think he’d shatter every bone in his hand. He’d punch every wall in this building, or kick over a trash can, or . . .

Or he’d sit alone and cry.

The idea of hiding in his bedroom back home for the next twelve hours with headphones and a blanket seemed like heaven at the moment, but God, Frank couldn’t even fantasize about that anymore because he didn’t  _ have  _ that bedroom back home.

Frank was moving.

Well, Frank’s parents were. That’s what the call had been about; the one so important it interrupted a floor meeting. Unfortunately for Frank, the Iero family had decided not to take their son with them. His father was being stationed in Kentucky, and all of Frank’s things were being packed into a box and being shipped there. He’d been told to look on the bright side: his belongings were all organized and he could take the box with him to college, but it had been said in such a way Frank didn’t believe either of his parents believed he’d ever make it out of here.

Fuck, Frank was sixteen. Did they really not believe he’d be home before then? The idea of spending two years here was beyond devastating, and he supposed they were right; the tutors here would never be enough to push him through SATs, much less into college.

Still, it hurt that they didn’t want to take Frank with them. He was sure there were plenty of suitable hospitals for him in Kentucky, there was no reason Frank had to be left behind.  _ No financial reason,  _ Frank thought sourly. He was positive that there were plenty of personal ones.

But when Gerard walked back from lunch, Frank turned his face away quickly, hiding it in his jacket. Because, no, Frank wasn’t crying, he was just upset, that’s all. Not even upset; he was angry. Very angry, and very much  _ not _ crying.

“Why’d you have to leave? What happened? ” Gerard’s face fell in concern when he saw Frank, and Frank’s stomach twisted with guilt. He didn’t want Gerard to worry. “Nothing,” He said quickly, clearing his throat a few times. “The nurse just wanted to talk to be about something.”

Gerard looked skeptical, before asking, “Wait, are you crying?”

“ _ No _ ,” Frank scowled, and he could have scorn he saw a faint smirk flash across Gerard’s face. “The tube just irritates my nose a lot. It makes me feel like I’m sick.” 

“Right,” Gerard said, sitting on Frank’s bed. He hadn’t asked Frank’s permission that time, but Frank found himself not minding, knowing that he would have allowed it anyway. “I’m serious!” Frank protested, and Gerard laughed a little. “Hey, I’m agreeing with you!”

Frank folded his arms, noticing that he slightly felt better already. No one had been able to cheer Frank up so quickly before; fuck, that was weird. “There’s a movie on tonight after dinner,” Gerard bumped his shoulder against Frank’s lightly, and Frank glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, looking at Frank with an expression Frank couldn’t quite figure out. “Want to come with me?”

“It sounds like I don’t have a choice,” Frank scoffed.

“You don’t,” Gerard teased, before asking, “Are you going to tell me what all that was about now?” Frank opened his mouth to respond, but Gerard shushed him with a finger. “Don’t you bullshit me,” He shook his head, and Frank frowned at him.

“Okay, fine.” Frank replied. “It was a call from my parents.”

“Damn, during a floor meeting?” Gerard looked almost surprised. “What are you, a billionaire or something?”

“Not quite,” Frank said, and Gerard leaned forward, saying, “Alright, alright, continue,” 

“My parents are moving,” Frank admitted finally, before adding, “But it’s not a big deal, or anything.”

“That’s a big deal, Frank!” Gerard said, and Frank crumpled-up a schedule to throw at him, remarking, “You don’t even have parents; how would you know?”

The paper bounced off Gerard’s chest and he caught it, staring at it for a few seconds. “I might meet my mom,” He admitted after a moment, and Frank was hit with shock. “No way!”

“And I might have a brother at this hospital.” Gerard added.

“That’s awesome, Gerard,” Frank exclaimed, almost reaching out to hug the boy before realizing what he was doing and drawing back awkwardly. “I, uh, I hope you get to meet them both.” Frank said quickly, pulling his arms around his body protectively. 

“Me too,” Gerard said gently, his eyes filled with amusement at Frank’s hesitance to touch him. “Are you scared of me?” He asked, catching Frank off-guard.

“No,” Frank replied automatically, looking down at the bed. He could feel Gerard’s gaze on him, and heat crept up the back of his neck. 

“You know that you can hug me whenever you want, right?” Gerard asked, and Frank nodded slowly. “We don’t have to, though, of course,” Gerard continued, and Frank mumbled an, “Yeah, okay,” Because nothing else would seem to come out of his mouth right now, and what the  _ fuck  _ was going on, and  _ why was it so goddamn hot in here _ ?

And when Frank thought the situation couldn’t have gotten any worse, Gerard put his fucking hand on top of Frank’s.

Every part of Frank felt frozen in place, except for his heart, which was trying to beat it’s way out of his chest. Shit.  _ Why is this so weird?  _ Frank wondered as he blinked quickly, looking away and clearing his throat again despite the tightness from crying being long gone.  _ He’s just a random boy; why can’t I act normal? _

_ Fuck, Frank. You’re not even gay,  _ Frank reminded himself, which honestly just make everything more confusing, because did straight people do this? Was he really  _ that  _ straight?

Before things could get any worse, Lindsey ran in. Frank supposed he should just suspect it at this point, but somehow he still managed to be startled as she crashed through the door, tailed by Haley and one of the two boys Frank had met earlier when Lindsey had been pouring salt on her tongue. Brendon, was it?

“Party in our room!” Lindsey elongated the word ‘party,’ shouting it until she ran out of breath. “Get off your asses and – Yikes, am I interrupting something?” She stopped short, raising her brows.

“Um, no, nope,” Frank said quickly, yanking his hand away from Gerard. “Right,” Lindsey winked at him before cheering, “Dope!” She turned to Gerard, adding teasingly, “We’ve got markers,”

Gerard let out a mock gasp. “No way,” He said. “That’s like, a whole step up from crayons!”

“Fuck yeah, it is!” Lindsey grabbed his arm, pulling Gerard towards the door before noticing Frank’s tube for the first time. “That move’s, right?” She asked, and he nodded silently. Frank hadn’t finished the bag yet, so he wasn’t allowed to detach it. “Hey, relax man, it’s okay.” Lindsey flashed him a grin, before running down the hall. A nurse yelled at her to slow down, but she ignored them.

“Where’s she going?” Gerard asked, and Haley shrugged. Frank followed after them as they trailed Lindsey back to her room, which consisted of a couple other patients sitting on the beds and floor. Frank had seen most of them around, but he didn’t know any of them personally.

Of course, everyone he didn’t know went straight to staring at his feeding tube and pole, and Frank immediately regretting coming here. He wanted to go back to his room and hide from their fucking eyes. God, he hated this. Thankfully, just then a nurse came for his bathroom break. Frank followed them eagerly, walking quickly.

Once inside the bathroom, Frank closed the door quickly. He knew he didn’t have much time, so he’d have to go fast. Unhooking the bag from its stand, he held it over the sink. Frank’s wrists had been too small for the hospital band, so the plastic bracelet had been cut smaller to accommodate for him. This resulted in a sharp edge on one end, which Frank used to poke a small hole in the top of the bag.

Excited adrenaline coursing through him, Frank tipped the bag slowly, letting the contents pour down the drain. Although it shouldn’t be; the prospect of escaping calories was thrilling. He knew letting too much go would be suspicious, so he stopped after half had gone, re-hanging the bag on the stand and walking back out. (But not before spitting in the drain for good measure). 

When Frank exited, he found that the nurse outside had vanished. Because he wasn’t in an eating disorder unit, he had more privacy in the bathrooms. Still, it didn’t mean he should get left alone. Frank knew better than to go back by himself, but that didn’t stop him from looking through the abandoned medicine cart across the hall. Flipping through a few boxes on the top he found melatonin, butterfly needles, alcohol swabs; nothing of great interest. But when he went to the second row, his breath stopped.

Syringes.

Frank grabbed two, slipping them into his pockets before feeling a hand come down on his shoulder. Panic raced through him, and he spun around. Fuck, had he been caught?

“Everything okay in there?” It was his nurse, the one who was supposed to be walking him to and from the restroom. Frank nodded, praying the nurse hadn’t seen anything. His prayers seemed to be answered as the nurse replied, “Good,” and walked him back to his room. Frank slunk in silently; he had to be careful, he only had eight minutes until rounds came around again.

✰✰✰

Pulling food  _ out  _ of his stomach hadn’t been Frank’s most glorious moment, but he pushed through, sticking with it until the end.

The feeling of accomplishment after he’d finished had made it all worth it, and after Frank had diligently poured the liquid out the one-inch window crack and hidden the syringe, he climbed into his bed. (He was feeling pretty nauseous; looking at a fucking tunnel into the innards of your stomach will do that to a guy). Maybe he shouldn’t have been feeling as prideful as he was, but fuck, Frank wasn’t about to let thousands of calories inside him. 

What he really needed right now was a shower, because as tired as he was, the ordeal hadn’t been quite spotless, and stomach acid had quite a distinct smell when it stuck to your skin. Peeling himself out of bed, Frank walked out into the hall. His tube was now detached which made it slightly less noticeable, but the stares he got still made him want to throw the towel he was holding in his hands over his head. Or maybe at the people staring - Frank wasn’t sure.

Apparently no one here knew what a fucking lock was, because the first shower he entered was occupied. Frank opened the door to immediately slam it shut. “Fuck, sorry!” He shouted at the person inside, and a laugh suddenly sounded from someone waiting behind him. It was Lindsey, and Frank turned to face her. “What?”

“Shit, Frank,” Lindsey said playfully. “Didn’t think you’d be so scared of some tits, being  _ straight  _ and all.”

“I’m not scared,” Frank hissed, grabbing at the back of his neck nervously. He considered asking why she had emphasized the word ‘straight,’ but decided against it. “God, do you think she’s mad?” He asked instead. “Should I go apologize?”

“Chill out, dude,” She laughed, pulling Frank’s hand away from him and holding it in her own. “You closed that door so fast, I doubt she even had a chance to see your face.”

“I know, but,” Frank began, when Lindsey wrinkled her nose. “Man, you stink,” She tried to sniff at his hands, but he pulled them away. “Fuck off, Lindsey,”

“Hey, if anyone knows the smell of puke, it’s me,” Lindsey said defensively. “Vodka hangovers are  _ not _ my shit.”

“I said, fuck off,” Frank twisted his mouth, turning pointedly to go to another shower. Lindsey raised her brows, her arms crossed. “Love you, too, Frankie!” She waved, and Frank rolled his eyes. He hoped she wouldn’t tell anyone.

✰✰✰

“Frank!” A hand shook Frank awake, and he swatted at it lazily. “Go to Hell,”

The hand shook him again. “Fuck, what?” Frank mumbled as someone pulled at his hair lightly. “Did you shower or something? Your hair smells nice,”

“Ew, get your fucking nose out of my hair!” Frank rolled over, pulling a pillow over his head. “Personal space, Gerard.”

“Your personal space bubble is twelve feet wide,” Gerard scoffed, and Frank turned his head to face him. “Exactly, so respect it.”

“For real, can I steal your shampoo sometime?” Gerard asked. “Mine is literally shit. I used Lindsey’s for a while, but now Haley has claimed it as well, and there’s just not enough to go around, you know?”

“Not my problem,” Frank yawned, making a lazy attempt to fix his hair. “What’s the time?”

“Eight-thirty pm, movie starts at nine,” Gerard informed him, and Frank nodded. “Oh right, that thing,” He said. “You sure I have to go?”

“Uh, definitely,” Gerard laughed. “C’mon, I heard it’s not going to be Frozen for once. This is huge!”

“For once?” Frank quoted curiously, before shaking his head. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Give me a second to find a sweatshirt, then I’ll come.”

“Aren’t you already wearing two?” Gerard asked, and Frank snorted. “I’m freezing my ass off. I can’t walk around this place, especially not at night, without some another jacket.” 

“Alright,” Gerard said humorously. “I’ll be outside.”

✰✰✰

The movie hadn’t been as bad as Frank has expected.

They’d ended up watching Titanic, with the unit crowded in front of one small TV. He’d sat on the floor with Gerard, using one of his sweatshirts as a blanket underneath them. There’d been popcorn (which he had not been forced to eat, thankfully). Overall it had gone pretty well, except for the kids yelling at the screen or the sex scenes the nurses had forgotten were there. It had been a quite frantic few moments of scrambling for the remote, with a few of the younger patients laughing their asses off the whole time.

After the movie had finished, Brendon had tried to smuggle the remote’s batteries back to his room for God knows what purpose, but had been caught and ordered to strip to ensure that he had no other contraband on him. Frank had decided that he liked Brendon after the nurse had ordered him to take his pants off and the boy had shouted, “I used to do this shit for money!” before sprinting off down the hall and making it into an elevator. 

Frank hadn’t seen what had happened after that as they’d all been ordered back to their rooms for the night. Room-curfew was usually at nine forty-five, but it was extended on movie nights. Watches weren’t allowed, so Frank could only guess how late it was by the time he’d brushed his teeth and was in bed.

And while he was laying there, he couldn’t help the thought of Gerard crossing his mind. After all, he  _ lived  _ with this guy now, of course he was going to think of him. . . and the fact that he’d sat fairly close to him during the movie. Or that towards the end, he may have rested his head on his shoulder. And maybe their hands had touched again too, but that was probably just Frank’s imagination running wild because, fuck, what was this? Why did he care?

Frank tried, but he couldn’t stop the name from escaping his lips. “Gerard?” He asked into the darkness, biting his tongue to prevent himself from saying more. He couldn’t see anything except for the faint light coming from down the hallway, but he could hear the other boy’s breathing softly over the whirr of the air conditioner.

“Yeah?”

“Tonight was fun.” Frank hesitated for a moment, before adding, “Thank you.”

There was no response, but Frank could have sworn he could hear Gerard smiling as he began to fall asleep.

  
  


**\---**

“Gerard, quick! Meet our new Jesus!”

Gerard had woken up later than usual this morning, finding his room empty as Frank had already left for his morning vitals. Gerard spent a lot of time revisiting the events of last night, and the movie with Frank. The mixed signals he was receiving were quite strong, and were taking up the majority of his thoughts at the moment. Yes, Frank had stated quite clearly that he was straight and therefore  _ not  _ into Gerard, but last night had made him reconsider. After the movie had started, Gerard moved closer to Frank in a very  _ friendly _ way; it had been Frank’s choice entirely to rest his fucking head on Gerard’s shoulder. And even later, they’d held hands again, this time without Frank losing his shit.

That was  _ not  _ a friendly encounter, Gerard was sure. He knew friends could hold hands and lean on shoulder or whatever the fuck, but  _ that _ was not. And at night when Frank had thanked him - it was as if they’d gone on a date, rather than an inpatient movie night. 

Gerard had gone to breakfast alone, and had been expecting a lot of things when Lindsey raced over to him. Gerard had not, however, expected a rubber glove filled with water – proclaiming to be Jesus - to be held out to him. “It’s our savior!” Lindsey said, shaking the glove a bit.

“Are you okay, Lindsey?” Gerard asked in amusement. By now Haley had reached them, and she struggled to explain. “You see, Lindsey and I have become fed up with these short smoke breaks,” She flipped her bright hair over one shoulder. “I know that they have to keep tabs and us all and all, but fifteen minutes isn’t enough time to enjoy anything!”

“So?” Gerard raised a brow at her protests.

“So we were thinking,” Haley looked up at him excitedly. “If we practice a religion that required longer breaks, they’d have to give them to us, right?”

“They can’t deny us of our religion!” Lindsey declared loudly, catching the attention of a nurse passing by. “Settle down, please,” The lady instructed, and Lindsey stuck her tongue out at the nurse’s back. “She’s just jealous because  _ her  _ Jesus is some dead dude, and not an epic master like our glove,” Lindsey jerked a thumb at the woman, rolling her eyes.

“You’re making up a religion just so you can burn out your cigarettes?” Gerard said skeptically, and Lindsey nodded, taking a seat with her tray. “Yep. Those things aren’t cheap, man. We need to salvage what we can get these days.”

“Aren’t you filthy rich or something, Lindsey?” Brendon, who had probably overheard their entire conversation from the table, called.

“Fuck off!” Lindsey said, flipping him off with both hands. Hayley just smiled, shaking her head as she took a seat. “Aren’t we all?”

“Hey, Brendon, how’d your big freedom-spree go last night?” Gerard challenged, laughing a little. “Unfortunately, we got sent to our rooms before it ended.”

“It was  _ great _ ,” Brendon said dramatically. “I made it all the way down to the maternity ward. It was probably four flights of stairs, but definitely worth it. So many hot pregnant chicks.”

“That’s actually disgusting,” Ryan replied from next to him, and Lindsey nodded, pointing to the boy. “Yeah, what he said!”

Gerard turned back to his food, poking at the frozen waffle with his plastic fork. When Lindsey and Hayley finished talking to the boys and began eating, Gerard asked them more about their ‘religion.’

“As you know, we’ve got this water balloon as Jesus,” Haley began, and Lindsey cut in quickly. “And Ray is our God!”

“I’m your what?” Ray’s confused voice came from the table over, but the three ignored him, except for Lindsey, who shouted, “None of your business!”

“This fake religion; it’s essentially Christianity, but like, a cheap rip-off?” Gerard gestured with his hands, and Haley pretended to hit him. “No, Gerard!” She cried. “It’s a completely different religion, and it is very real.”

“I don’t know,” Gerard shrugged, less interested in the religion and more curious to see how far the two would take it. “What language does it speak?”

“Uh,” Lindsey paused, before answering, “Dog.”

“Dog?” Hayley turned to her incredulously, and Lindsey nodded. “See, watch!” She barked at Ray, who stood up to glance at her. “What are you doing, Lindsey?”

“Look, he responds to it and everything!” Lindsey said, folding her arms. “It’s totally a real religion, and it’s going to work.”

“You’re so full of shit, Lindsey,” Gerard laughed, picking up his tray to dump it out. “Both of you are.”

“But you love us anyway!” Lindsey said, as Hayley asked, “Why are you leaving so soon, Gerard?”

“No reason,” Gerard shrugged. Just as he was about to exit the cafeteria, a voice spoke. “He’s going to hang out with his bag-of-bones boyfriend.”

Gerard stopped walking and turned around. It was Ryan who’d said it, his head down and hidden with the hood of his sweatshirt as usual.

“His name’s Frank, and he’s not my boyfriend.” Gerard said pointedly, a cold edge to his voice. Ryan didn’t seem to notice.

“But he’s not even sick, is he?” Ryan asked, still not meeting Gerard’s gaze. Lindsey and Hayley had fallen silent, which was a rare occurrence, but Gerard wasn’t paying too much mind to them at the moment. “Frank’s kind of disgusting, and he shouldn’t be here with us.” Ryan wrinkled his nose, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I mean; he  _ chose _ to be here. There’s a whole unit for people like him, they should save his bed for someone who could actually use help. I mean, do you even want to share a room with that thing?”

Gerard opened and closed his mouth a few times, but before he could speak he heard the quiet patter of feet running away. He turned his head in time to see Frank turning the corner out of sight. Fuck, Frank had been right there. He’d heard everything.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Gerard snapped, anger fueling his words. Who was Ryan to say those things about Frank? Who gave him the right? “Have you seen him? How could you say he isn’t sick? Frank deserves treatment as much as anyone, if not more.” He squared up to the boy. “Frank might have a different diagnosis than the rest of us, but at least he doesn’t spend his time putting other people down.”

“Yeah, that’s because he doesn’t talk to anyone but you,” Ryan scoffed, and Gerard knocked over his water glass. The cup hit the table with a loud  _ crack _ , calling over two nurses immediately.

“Boys!” One shouted, racing over to step between them. “What is going on?”

“Nothing.” Gerard frowned, shaking his head and walking out the cafeteria door. He had to find Frank.

✰✰✰

When Gerard spoke to Frank again, Frank was in their room, lying in bed.

He’d known where Frank had gone since the moment he’d left, but that hadn’t stopped Gerard from checking every other possible location before returning to their room. He hated to admit that he was avoiding talking to Frank, but Gerard didn’t have a clue what to say to him and had assumed he’d be asleep when he got back anyway.

Frank wasn’t though. He was very awake and reading a book, but put it down when Gerard said his name. “Frank?”

“Yes?”

“Ryan is wrong.” Gerard said quietly, and Frank shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gerard.”

“Frank, I –” Gerard began, but Frank cut him off. “You know, I found a Jenga box earlier today,” He said, and Gerard remained silent, looking down at his hands. “The blocks were all written on and shit. Each one had a message; you would have liked it. One of them said never to get the mashed potatoes here.”

“They have a point,” Gerard chuckled. “Those things could probably cement this building together.”

There was silence, and then Frank spoke up. “They’re taking out my tube today.”

“Wow, really?” Gerard asked, and his smile was genuine. “That’s great, Frank.”

Frank shrugged again. “It hurts like a bitch to get taken out, though. Not looking forward to that.”

Suddenly a nurse came in, calling Gerard for his therapy session. He’d forgotten he had one after breakfast today, with this morning’s events and all. Judging by the look on the nurse’s face, he was pretty late.

“See ya,” Frank waved half-heartedly, almost making Gerard laugh. “Bye, Frank.”

✰✰✰

“At least tell me his name!” 

Ever since he’d found out about the boy’s existence, Gerard had been pestering Dr. J non-stop about his brother. Dr. J refused to give him any more information though, but that hadn’t deterred Gerard’s attempts.

“Gerard, I can’t,” Dr. J shook his head for what felt like the hundredth time. 

“Why?” Gerard sighed in exasperation. “What could I possibly do with just a name?”

“It’s not my decision to make,” Dr. J insisted defensively. “His mother doesn’t want you knowing either; I’m just following her requests.”

“His mother?” Gerard repeated. “As in my mother, too?”

“No,” Dr. J said quickly. (Almost  _ too  _ quickly, in Gerard’s opinion). “Your brother was adopted as a child. She’s his adoptive mother.”

“My brother got adopted, but not me?” Gerard asked. “Why?”

“That’s not important, Gerard,” Dr. J tapped his pen against the clipboard, and Gerard frowned. “Well, it seems like it should be.” He huffed. “That’s not fair, he gets a normal life but not me? Just because I’m crazy, doesn’t mean –”

“Gerard,” Dr. J said warningly, stopping Gerard from finishing his sentence. “You’re not ‘crazy,’ and your stay here has absolutely nothing to do with his adoption.”

“I’m sure,” Gerard rolled his eyes. “I hope he’s been having a great time enjoying his freedom. What’s he in here for, anyway? Broken wrist? Sprained finger?”

Dr. J grimaced, shaking his head. “Your brother was in a coma for almost a month after traumatic head injuries. Which one of you has it better off is a debatable topic.”

“He had his whole life before that coma!” Gerard protested. “He spent one month in a hospital, big deal. I’ve been here years, not to mention where I was before. I think I definitely win against him, Doc.”

“Mikey lost his memory completely, Gerard!” Dr. J snapped, using a tone Gerard had never heard him use before. That was little interest to the boy though, as he was paying more attention to the name he’d spoken.

“So, Mikey’s his name?” Gerard asked, and Dr. J paused suddenly. “Huh? I – Oh,” He sighed, then nodded. “Yes, that’s his name.”

Gerard felt himself grow cold.

Without thinking, he excused himself from the room to ‘get water’ as the color drained from his face. Fuck, it couldn’t be.  _ No, it’s not, it’s not. That is a stupid fucking coincidence because he is dead; you watched him die! _ Gerard’s gut twisted as he tried to push away the memory, but before he succeeded a final thought slipped by. _ His blood got on your fucking shirt. His blood stained that shirt to Hell when that bullet hit. . . _

It felt as if someone had just walked over his grave.

**\---**

It was late afternoon when Bob told Mikey he was leaving.

Mikey hadn’t known what to say. Would ‘congratulations’ have been correct? He wasn’t sure. It didn’t  _ feel  _ like a celebration to him; it felt like quite the opposite. Mikey had stayed silent instead, biting his nails and letting his hair cover his eyes.

A few tests had shown that Bob’s body was responding well to the chemo, and it wasn’t necessary for him to stay at the hospital. He’d come back four times a week to check in, but would return home after. Bob promised Mikey he’d drop by, and Mikey had smiled a little at that.

Mikey wasn’t sure how he felt now as Bob’s dad arrived, finishing the last of the paperwork before Bob was able to go. The boy paused by Mikey’s bed on the way out, pressing a paper bag into his hands.

“What’s this?” Mikey asked in surprise, and Bob shrugged, casually glancing at his dad to make sure he wasn’t watching. “Stuff I thought you might like,” He replied, messing up Mikey’s hair playfully. “I’ll be back in two days, you won’t even notice I’m gone.” Bob said, assuring Mikey as he left.

After he’d gone out of sight, Mikey decided to open the bag. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do; he wasn’t really supposed to leave the room, and although the TV in the corner provided substantial entertainment at times, Mikey couldn’t concentrate on it at the moment.

The first item he pulled out was a long, plastic rod. Mikey examined it for a few moments, before deeming it one of Bob’s e-cigarettes and quickly hiding it back in the bad. The second item was a pair of keys, labelled “Second Floor Cabinet D” and “Stairs.” Bob had written a note next to them. It read,  _ Thought you might find these fun.  _ Mikey didn’t know what “Second Floor Cabinet D” was, but “Stairs” were pretty self-explanatory.

The third item made Mikey’s breath stop.

A candy bar. Three, actually. The sight, the feel, the smell – it was too much for Mikey. He dropped the bar as if had burned him, pushing it off his bed with a kick of his foot. Get that thing away from him.

Hugging his knees tight to his chest, Mikey put his head down and closed his eyes. A candy bar. That’s all he’d wanted from that store when the police had caught him. He’d been stealing, and stealing was wrong, and he was in so, so much trouble – 

“Hey, are you feeling alright?” 

Mikey pulled his head up. A nurse was in his doorway, a worried expression on her face. “Yes, I’m fine,” Mikey said, forcing a weak smile. “I just have a lot of medication,”

“Alright, sweetheart,” The nurse continued down the hall, and Mikey let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Making sure she was gone, Mikey got of bed and put a pillow vertically in his bed. Grabbing the pair of keys off his bed, Mikey took his heart monitor off the stand and pulled out his IVs. The sting of the needles being drawn out of his arm made him inhale sharply, but he ignored it and ran out of the room without looking back. 

\---

“Hands off your food, Frank!”

Frank scowled as what felt like his hundredth attempt to hide food was foiled. How was he expected to finish his breakfast if he wasn’t allowed to touch his meal?

Well, Frank was allowed to  _ touch  _ it, of course, but it had to be with a utensil only, and no drinking until he’d swallowed. The rules in this meal group were so fucking ridiculous that for half a moment Frank considered asking for a tube again. There was no talk of appearance, no talk of calories, both hands above the table, no napkins, and a thirty-minute time limit to finish the meal or else you had to drink the caloric equivalent in Ensure. This group was a significantly smaller one than last time, and the majority of the other patients had finished while Frank had yet to start. 

“Ten minutes left,” A nurse warned him, and Frank looked away. It had been a long morning; the last thing he wanted to do right now was eat. Ryan’s voice was stuck in his head, and the words seemed to be repeating themselves over and over.  _ Frank’s kind of disgusting. He’s not even sick, he shouldn’t be here with us. He chose to be here _ .

And then Gerard’s voice,  _ He’s not my boyfriend.  _ Frank wasn’t sure why that phrase had stuck, but it seemed to hurt almost as much as the others.

“Could you try, please, Frank?” Frank’s nutritionist asked, her nasal voice reminding Frank of a dolphin. “Just one little bite? For me?” The urge to slap her increased, but miraculously, Frank restrained himself. God, where was Gerard? He could really use someone to eat his meals right now.

Grabbing a pen his nutritionist had abandoned on the table, Frank cracked it over his food, letting the black pour streak down over his fingers and onto the plate. The white rice was quickly swallowed in the liquid. “ _ Frank _ ,” The nutritionist let out a slow, exasperated sigh. “We have more meals in the back for you.”

“I hope you have more pens, too.” Frank said.

✰✰✰

Frank wondered what the fuck he was going to do as he lay in bed, his eyes staring blankly down at the book in front of him. No one liked him, no one wanted him here. No one wanted him at home either, apparently. Shit, he couldn’t even do the one thing he was paying to be at this place for for; eat. Frank was doing what he did best; being a waste of time.

“What are you reading?” Gerard’s voice broke into Frank’s thoughts - the hands pressing down on his shoulders snapping him back to reality as Gerard leaned over to get a better look.

“Uh, Pet Sematary,” Frank replied, unsure of whether to shrug off Gerard’s hands or leave them. Before he could decide, Gerard solved the problem for him and pulled his hands away. “Nice,” The boy grinned, before holding out a small box. “Lindsey has a new idea for lengthening our smoke breaks, want test it out with us?”

Frank wanted to say yes so badly as he looked up at Gerard’s eager face, but he found himself shaking his head no instead, the sentence ‘ _ he’s not my boyfriend’  _ running through his head. “Nah, I’ll pass,” He said, trying his best to sound indifferent. The hurt look on Gerard’s face felt like a stab to Frank’s chest, and he apologized quickly. “It’s nothing personal, I’m just tired.” 

“That’s okay,” Gerard said, and Frank could tell he was trying sound cheerful, which did nothing to help Frank’s increasing sense of guilt. Fuck, Frank was just a dick to everyone, wasn’t he?

Putting his nose back into the book, Frank turned his attention away from the boy and tried his best to re-immerse himself into the story. He wanted to get away, even if it was only in his head.

✰✰✰

A loud shout jerked Frank awake, and his eyes flew open, blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the light.

Frank hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep, and after seeing his book laying in front of him, he assumed he must have fallen asleep reading. Turning to face the chaos, Frank almost jumped out of his bed in alarm. Two nurses were struggling to block Gerard into the room with their bodies, as a third radioed for security to come help.

“Gerard,  _ please  _ calm down,” A nurse almost yelled, and Gerard backed away from her. “Let me go!”

“What the Hell is going on?” Frank pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, waiting for the feeling of nausea to go away. Black spots danced at the edges of his vision. Christ, he sat up  _ way  _ too quickly.

Suddenly a pair of guards burst into the room, each grabbing at Gerard’s arm. “Get away from him!” Frank shouted, trying to rush over, but nurse stopped him halfway. “I think you should leave, Frank,” She said, leading him roughly towards the door by his hand. Frank tried, and failed, to wrestled it back from her. Fuck, that lady was strong.

“Stop!” Gerard was kicking at the guards now, and Frank craned his head as the nurse pulled him away. “Gerard, what the fuck is happening?”

Gerard didn’t seem to hear him though, and Frank just barely noticed the boy raising his fist before he slammed it across a guard’s face. And although the guard was a muscular guy, even he couldn’t take a knock that hard to the teeth. Within moments he had dropped his grasp on Gerard, bending over to spit blood onto the ground.

The other guard wasted no time in wrenching both of Gerard’s arms behind him, and holding his head back with his hair. Gerard began furiously kicking at him, and Frank heard the first-half of a scream when the nurse succeeded in pulling him completely out the door, slamming it behind him and trapping the noise, as well as Gerard, inside. 

\---

Mikey was completely lost when he made his way into a waiting room, taking a seat on one of the sofas in silence.

The one other family in there – a mother and a son – shot him curious looks, but said nothing. Mikey knew what he looked like: some guy with a bad haircut, walking with a stumble, wearing a hospital gown (with bloodstains on it, to top everything off. The IVs he’d ripped out must have been connected to some pretty serious veins).

Mikey found himself picking up a magazine, flipping mindlessly through a few pages before placing it back on the ground. After a few moments, the mom spoke to him gently, asking, “Hi, honey, are you lost?”

Mikey looked her over. She was a young mom, and her infant son probably provided her with enough problems to deal with. She didn’t need Mikey’s on top of that. “No,” He replied plainly. She nodded, getting up quickly when the nurse called her name.

There was no one working reception, and Mikey’s eyes wandered to the shelf of files behind the front desk. They were arranged alphabetically (as indicated by the large letters on each row), and Mikey walked over to them slowly. Making sure no one was around, he slipped behind the desk, flipping one open.

It was the file of a young girl named Cameron Benson. She was allergic to pollen, used the insurance company Cigna, and had  _ talkative mom – watch out!  _ scrawled at the end. Placing the folder back on the shelf carefully, Mikey began to examine the other shelves for his own file, which was sorted by last name. Mikey had learned his a few weeks ago, while fiddling with his hospital band. A lot was written on the bracelet, including the words Way, Michael 15 M. He wasn’t sure what the last two meant, but after searching the W category, found that his file was not there.

Before he could give up, Mikey noticed the same copy of Cameron Benson’s file on the computer at the desk. Reaching over, he slowly typed ‘Way’ into the top right search bar. Three results came up, and he clicked on the last one:  _ Way, Michael _ .

A chill ran through Mikey as he doubled clicked the document, opening it. He felt as if he were discovering a dark secret, rather than snooping around at a receptionist’s computer. The document started out with things Mikey didn’t recognize: his insurance, his allergies, his medications. Suddenly, his eyes landed on a name he recognized. Donna.

The word before that (presumably her last name) was unfamiliar, but Mikey was fairly sure this was the same Donna who visited him frequently. Wanting to learn more, he clicked on the name. The word’s ‘Legal Guardian’ popped up, followed by a few irritated margin notes.  _ ‘Medical record practically inexistent. Allergic to penicillin and Zycorax, but ALWAYS half-dose first. Consider anti-depressants.’ _

Mikey scanned over these, finding nothing of importance. Clicking forward a few pages, he found a small paragraph. The notes read,  _ “Only documented sessions we have – ask mom for follow up later.”  _ The paragraph appeared to be an almost interview-style monologue, between M and T. Mikey wondered if M was him, and quickly found his answer in the beginning lines of the document.

“ _ Way, Michael. Wednesday, 4:56 pm. 7, M. _

_ T: How are you feeling today?” _

_ M: Tired. _

_ T: You’re tired often, aren’t you? You’ve given me that answer a few times this week. _

_ M: Oh, maybe. Sorry. _

_ T: How is your bed at night? Is it comfortable?  _

_ M: Yeah, it’s good. The blankets are super cool! _

_ T: Are there other children making noise? Is it too crowded? _

_ M: Nope, everyone’s nice! Especially my friends. _

_ T: Is the food provided okay? _

_ M: Mhm, it’s good.” _

Mikey wasn’t sure what the significance of that was, but before he could read any more, a pair of people entered the waiting room. Mikey watched them from the corner of his eye, noticing that the elder was holding the boy’s upper arm and assumed they must be a father-son pair. The boy looked older than Mikey, but before he could look any closer the boy glanced up, connecting his gaze to Mikey’s.

Panic filled Mikey, and he closed the file on the computer quickly before ducking out from behind the desk. He was about to exit the room, when the boy who had walked in did a double take at Mikey.

Worrying he might be recognized and get in trouble, Mikey turned away quickly, putting his head down and walking out as quickly as he could. “Wait!” The boy said, and Mikey began to run. He didn’t stop, running down the hall and around the corner. All of Mikey’s muscles cramped in protest, and he almost fell twice when his ankles hit together. As he turned into the next hall, Mikey slowed down in order to avoid suspicion, hoping he was safe.

Mikey couldn’t shake the look that guy had given him; a mix of disbelief, surprise, and confusion. Did he know that boy? Was that boy mad at him for sneaking onto the computer? Mikey thought about the features of the boy as he continued to walk. He hadn’t seemed unusual: dark hair, brown eyes, light skin. He was just an average boy, there’d been nothing special about him.

Actually, if Mikey thought really hard about it, he was pretty sure he could remember a scar running across the bridge of the guy’s nose. Usually Mikey wouldn’t have paid it much mind, but he was suddenly hit by the fact that the boy from his dream had  _ the exact same mark _ on his face. I mean, how common were nose scars? The boy from his dream and he guy in the waiting room didn’t seem outstandingly similar when Mikey compared them in his mind, but with all the confusion in this past week, Mikey was positive anything could happen.

Mikey had seen the boy’s hospital band as well; blue. Although it very well could have been an accessory rather than a identification bracelet, Mikey made a small mental note to find out which floor blue was, just to be sure. He wondered if Bob’s friends would talk to him, even if Bob wasn’t there anymore, and supposed he wouldn’t hold it against them if they didn’t. 

✰✰✰

Mikey didn’t find Lance and Dean, they found him.

He’d been walking back to his room - more confused than when he’d left it - dreading whichever nurse he would encounter first and inevitably receive a lecture from. Mikey knew no one would be happy about him disappearing like that, so the smile he received from the two boys approaching caught him quite off guard.

“Mikey!” Dean waved, and Mikey smiled weakly. “H-Hi,” He stammered, rubbing the sore spots on his arm where he’d ripped out the IV lines as they caught up to him.

“What’s going on?” Lance asked. “Where’d you go? Shouldn’t there be a nurse with you? You can barely stand!”

Mikey wanted to snort at this comment, but he kept it inside. He could  _ stand _ ! Walking was not the easiest, and running from that boy had left his back and shoulders aching, but he could most definitely stand up. “Is it okay if we, uh, don’t talk in the hallway?” Mikey said quietly, tripping over his words. He didn’t want a nurse to over hear him, but after seeing the looks on the boy’s faces he quickly changed his mind. “I mean, we can stay out here, too.” Mikey felt his fingers shake a little, and clamped them into fists in an attempt to make them still.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Dean said easily, patting Mikey on the back. “Why don’t you go sit down, and we’ll follow you.”

Although he didn’t like Dean treating him as if he were a child, Mikey agreed and retreated back to his room, practically collapsing onto the bed. That had been tiring that Mikey would like to admit.

“So what’s the story?” Lance asked eagerly. “Did you run away? What were you trying to find? You didn’t by chance happen to stumble across a pair of keys, did you?” Dean gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs at his last sentence, and Lance yelped. “That was uncalled for!”

“I didn’t mean to go so far or stay for so long,” Mikey admitted sheepishly. “But I came across my file and wanted to read it.”

Lance let out an  _ ooh  _ noise, and Dean rolled his eyes at the sound. “What’d it say?” Lance pressed, excitedly. “Bob didn’t know a lot about you, but he mentioned some of the stuff he’d heard your doctor saying. You can’t remember stuff, right? And you were in a coma, too! Do you even remember your name?”

“I can’t tell if that offended you or not, but I’m apologizing on Lance’s behalf anyway,” Dean said loudly, and Mikey almost laughed. “No, it’s okay,” he assured Dean. “And yes, I knew my name, but I don’t really know much else.” It felt weird saying it out loud. “Even my file didn’t tell me much.” Mikey said. “I didn’t get to read the whole thing, though, so maybe it had more.”

“You should be allowed to read your own file.” Dean agreed, and Lance lit up.

“We can help you –” Lance began, before Dean cut him off, saying, “As much as we’d  _ love  _ to help you, we actually only came down here looking for something of Bob’s. But since it’s obviously not here, I think we’re expected back upstairs,” He said apologetically, and Mikey rummaged around for a second in the bags by his bed. “You’re looking for the keys you mentioned earlier, right?” He asked, and Dean spluttered for a second as Mikey held up the pair of keys given to him by Bob. “Is this what you want?” Mikey asked, and Lance and Dean’s eyes widened.

“Uh, yes. Mikey, I think those are ours,” Dean said, and Lance gaped. “How did you  _ get  _ them?”

“Bob gave it to him, dumbass,” Dean scoffed, and Lance reached for the keys, but Mikey pulled them back to his chest. “N-No,” He said, shocking himself with his boldness. “I want you to help me.” The words came before Mikey could think twice, but he didn’t regret them one bit.

“I don’t know,” Dean trailed off, biting his lip, and Lance nudged him. “Hey, I think it’s only fair,” He began, before Mikey held out the e-cigarette. “Is this yours, too?”

The room was silent for a moment, before Dean sighed, walking towards the door. “C’mon, Lance,” He said, pulling the other boy by his arm. “We’ve got a file to steal.”

\---

It was well past midnight when Dr. J finally arrived.

A low sigh of relief escaped Gerard as the door unlocked, opening slowly. It had been God knows how many hours of sitting in this  _ tiny  _ room with a  _ tiny  _ window and a  _ tiny  _ bathroom, and Gerard was well on his way to combusting if this were to keep up. His knees ached, his head hurt, but most importantly; he was bored out of his fucking mind. “Gerard?” Dr. J asked quietly, stepping inside, and Gerard sat up quickly.

“Hey!” Gerard replied. “Please tell me you brought food; I’m  _ starving _ .” What he  _ really  _ meant was that he’d gone almost seventeen hours without a drink, and he was really starting to get the itch for one. Gerard had tried his best not to drink as often as usual when Frank was in the room, but this gave him little time to do so; on when Frank was away or sleep.

“Right here,” Dr. J nodded, handing Gerard the tray he was holding. Gerard took it, sitting on the floor (because there was no desk, and he wasn’t about to eat standing up). Not caring about what he looked like in the slightest, Gerard began to devour the meal hungrily.

Gerard hadn’t had being sent to isolation on the agenda for today, but somehow, he wound up here regardless. Apparently, the labs from his vitals taken a week prior had given back some bad results, and his physician wanted run more. If Gerard’s case had worsened, he would be moved further up in priorities for organ donors. As of now, he was pretty close to the end of the line, with his history of crime, alcohol consumption, nicotine usage, and others. And as important moving up on the list was, it wasn’t worth the cost of a blood draw.

“What if it were  _ cancer _ ?” The nurse had thrown his hands up in the air. “Wouldn’t you want to know so you can get treatment?”

“I’m not letting you stab me,” Gerard had shot back, grinning on the outside but terrified on the inside. He hated bloodwork with an ungodly passion, and if avoiding it resulted in his death then so be it. “I’d rather die!”

And then things had only gone down from there. Gerard was fairly certain he’d thrown some punches – not one of which he regret. Those bastards deserved it. Of course, this had only resulted in Gerard getting shot up with some good old Avitan, and the blood being taken from his arm before he woke up (in isolation. Big surprise).

Dr. J’s voice brought him back to the present, and Gerard focused on his food. “I’m so sorry, Gerard,” Dr. J said, watching as Gerard ate. “I had no clue they were going to keep you here for so long.”

“Yeah, you did,” Gerard said plainly, shrugging his shoulders. He wasn’t mad, it was just the truth. Dr. J decided almost every aspect of his life, and Gerard knew that how long he stayed in isolation was one of them.

Dr. J shifted awkwardly. “I-I,  _ yes _ , I knew, but I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I thought you’d at least be let back for dinner,” He trailed off, and Gerard shrugged again. “It’s fine, Dr. J,” 

“I was just dealing with a lot, and someone went  _ missing _ , and – ” Dr. J struggled to explain, but Gerard cut him off. “Someone went missing? Who?”  _ Fuck, it was Frank, wasn’t it?  _ Gerard felt worry rush through him, making his back stiffen. If Frank had run away – done  _ anything –  _ because of what Ryan said, Gerard didn’t think he would ever get over it. Frank’s rejection to Gerard’s smoking proposal replayed in Gerard’s head, making him panic. Why had Frank said no? Was he mad at Gerard?

“No, no,” A wave of relief washed over Gerard as Dr. J shook his head back and forth, answering, “No one you know; they’re from another floor.”

Gerard nodded, finishing off the last of his dinner before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and getting to his feet. “Can I go back now?” He was tired, and ready to sleep. Isolation was a difficult place to rest in. 

“Yes, of course, Gerard,” Dr. J ran his hand through his graying hair, rubbing his eyes. “We’ll meet first thing tomorrow about today though, so don’t think you’ve gotten out of anything.”

“I wouldn’t dream about it,” Gerard said sarcastically as he opened the door, heading toward the elevator.

✰✰✰

Right before reaching the elevator, Gerard saw something that made him stop dead in his steps.

They’d been passing through a waiting room when Gerard noticed a boy (in a fucking hospital gown) behind the front desk. Being exhausted and not wanting to cause a scene, Gerard decided not to point the kid out to Dr. J as they walked. He supposed whatever that patient was doing was up to them.

It was only when Gerard’s eyes met those of the patient’s, that he felt his heart plummet into his stomach. That was him.  _ He’s right there _ . He’s standing in front of you.  _ But he’s dead!  _ Gerard’s mouth opened slightly as he tried to form a sentence, but before the words could come out, the patient turned quickly and began to run away.

“Wait!” Gerard shouted, because he couldn’t lose him again. But this just seemed to make the trembling boy run faster, breaking into a sprint (which he executed in an almost-flailing manor). Gerard took a step forward to follow him, when he felt a firm hand around his bicep. “Gerard,  _ come on _ ,” Dr. J was pulling hard, and Gerard stumbled a step in his direction. “Dr. J, wait! That’s my – That’s my brother!”

“Don’t be stupid, Gerard.” Dr. J frowned, practically dragging Gerard into the elevator. Gerard wondered if he was imaging the creases of stress on the man’s forehead, or the urgent tone in his voice. “Stupid?” Gerard repeated, dumbfounded. “I don’t think you understand; my brother died when I was ten, but that’s  _ him _ ! He’s  _ here _ !” At that point the pieces began to fit together, and Gerard scrambled forward quickly, turning to look at Dr. J.

“That’s my brother!” He said in amazement, trying his best not to yell. “You said I had a brother here, and I do! That was him!” Gerard began to plead now, pulling on Dr. J’s tight hold on his arm. “Dr. J, you have to let me go back and see him, I haven’t seen in in years.”

“I don’t have to let you do anything,” Dr. J’s scowl deepened, and Gerard was surprised at his sour tone of voice. “But Dr. J, you don’t understand, he’s right down that hall –”

“That’s not your brother!” Dr. J snapped suddenly, taking Gerard aback. “What do you mean?” He asked quietly, his smile fading.

“That boy you saw there?” Dr. J pointed down to the hall the kid had run down. “He doesn’t know you! That isn’t Mikey!”

“It isn’t?” Gerard asked in confusion. A feeling of dejection was beginning to crawl up his spine, and he tried unsuccessfully to push it away. “But he looked so similar; I had really thought,”

“Well, you thought wrong,” Dr. J was silent then, and didn’t speak to Gerard as they made it back to his unit, where he was handed off to a nurse wordlessly.

✰✰✰

When Gerard got back to his room, Frank was wide awake, standing between the beds.

Frank had turned to face Gerard in the doorway as he heard him enter, his sullen face lighting up with joy and relief as he rushed over to hug him. “Gerard!”

Gerard stumbled a bit in surprise as he received the hug, leaning into it for a short moment before Frank pulled away quickly, looking up at him. Gerard felt his breath catch in his throat for a moment, because  _ fuck,  _ Frank had just hugged him, and now they were standing so close and –

“Fucking Hell, I was so worried,” Frank shook his head, taking his gaze off the other boy and falling back onto his bed. “You are never allowed do that to me again, you hear me?” Frank asked, and Gerard nodded, still slightly dazed from the hug. Frank had  _ hugged  _ him. Did this mean he wasn’t mad at Gerard anymore? Why had he been mad in the first place? “You’re not allowed to scare me like that, Gerard!”

“I’m sorry,” Gerard said, feeling guilty for not considering what Frank had been feeling while he was away. He had just assumed Frank was upset with him, Gerard had no clue that he’d be worried.

“Fuck you, I had thought you might have been kicked out!” Frank exclaimed, sighing and sitting back on his bed. “I’ve seen people get removed for less than the shit that you pulled. Lindsey insisted you weren’t kicked and told me you’ve gone to isolation for up to a week before for things like that. A week!” Frank exclaimed, and Gerard took off his jacket and shoes, huffing a small laugh. “They could never kick me,” He muttered and Frank scoffed. “Yeah, that’s what everyone said. You better explain yourself, Gerard. I didn’t worry the entire day for you to come back and sleep.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, but he was smiling faintly. “I guess I should start by saying I have a small fear of needles.” And so, the story progressed to how once the results of his vitals came back, he’d  _ had  _ to have labs done, which required bloodwork. But those would happen over Gerard’s dead body (or at least his unconscious one). Gerard continued to explain about what happened before Frank woke up, and how the nurse knew he was resistant and had tried to do it while he was asleep (like that would ever work). Gerard paused when he came to the part where she called for reinforcement. That hadn’t been his greatest moment, and he’d rather try and forget about it altogether for now. “And I uh, I  _ really  _ don’t like being restrained,” Gerard stammered, and Frank laughed. “Understatement of the century!” He declared. “You fucking punched a guard.”

Gerard threw up his hands in defense. “Like I said, it really freaks me out.”

“Be grateful you weren’t put in a five-point then,” Frank said. “At the last place I went to, if you refused the tube you got put in one of those. I don’t want to imagine where dishing a fist to the teeth would land you.”

Gerard shuddered, the thought of having his arms strapped down to a bed making his skin crawl. “Fuck, I’d probably die if that happened.”

“Yeah, and you’re also going to die if your liver fails,” Frank pointed out. “Did you end up doing those tests?”

Gerard nodded. “They won’t be back for a few days though.”

“So you took a shot to the ass and woke up in isolation, then what?” Frank asked, and Gerard chuckled. “I’ve never heard anyone put it that way before,” He admitted, and Frank folded his arms. “Well, I’m not anyone,” He retorted, before waving Gerard on. “What happened next?”

Gerard told Frank about how Dr. J had come to pick him up, and how he’d eaten dinner there. He then grabbed a beer (he’d stolen the can from a staff fridge last week) and began to drink it, pausing after a few sips. “On the way back, I saw my fucking brother,” Gerard remembered, blurting out the words quickly.

“You what?”

“Dr. J said he wasn’t my brother,” Gerard explained quickly. “But I  _ know  _ he was. That was him right there, that was Mikey. He looked the same and everything! I mean, I guess he looks older, but other than that –”

“Hold up,” Frank interrupted him. “You knew you had a brother? I thought you said you didn’t have a family! If you had a brother this whole time, why didn’t he come and visit you?”

“Apparently, he was in a coma,” Gerard shrugged. “But I remember his face from when I was younger, we grew up together. He’s the only biological family I was ever in contact with, so we were pretty close and all.”

Frank frowned at this, persisting. “But if you’ve known him since you were kids, that still doesn’t explain why he didn’t visit you. Obviously, he wasn’t in a coma his whole life.”

“Oh,” Gerard said softly, realization hitting him. “That’s because I thought he was dead.”

“You thought he was what?” Frank asked in astonishment, not sure he’d heard Gerard correctly.

“Dead,” Gerard repeated. “I watched him die, Frank. He  _ was  _ dead, but he’s obviously not anymore, because he’s downstairs.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down!” Frank said, shaking his head. “Mikey is dead? When did he die?”

“Uh, when I was nine,” Gerard said. “Mikey was seven.”

“Who killed him?” Frank pressed, and Gerard shrugged. “He ran out into the highway and a truck took him out.”

Frank frowned, pondering this. “Well, you didn’t witness it then, right? If he’s downstairs he must not have died that day. Did you see him bleed out? Did a doctor confirm for you?”

“No one told me he was dead,” Gerard admitted. “But I saw him get hit. Half of Mikey’s head split open, and there was blood everywhere.”  _ And you didn’t help him. You just watched. You got blood on your shirt. His blood. Fuck, there was so much blood.  _ “There’s no way anyone could have survived it, Frank!”

“Well, there must have been one, since Mikey did.” Frank said, and Gerard frowned. “When I saw him, I wasn’t allowed to follow him. Dr. J said he wasn’t my brother.”

Frank paused to think. “I guess we’ll have to find out for ourselves then, won’t we?”

“What do you mean?” Gerard asked, and Frank looked over at him. “We’re going to go find Mikey.”

\---

“We’re up three and a half pounds! You did it!” 

Today’s nurse was loud, and her shrill voice was beginning to make Frank’s head hurt. He hated her noisy hand clapping, her peppy attitude, and the fact that she was apparently oblivious to the existence of water weight. Either way, Frank would have to keep it up if he wanted the tube to stay out.

“Yay,” Frank said drily, his voice lacking enthusiasm as he stepped off the scale. He reached for his sweater, pulling it over his head in one fluid motion. Frank knew it was just his imagination, but it felt tighter. As a matter of fact, Frank’s mind had been running wild recently. Yesterday had been more stressful than he’d prefer to admit, but  _ fuck,  _ what could he have done? How was he supposed to know Gerard hadn’t been taken away forever? The guy just freaked out, disappeared for a few hours, and came back saying he’d seen his dead brother?

Maybe Gerard really  _ was  _ crazy.

The thought sunk in slowly and Frank tried to shake it off, but had already lodged itself deep in his mind. You weren’t put in an Emergency Unit for acute liver failure. You didn’t stay in the hospital for years and years and then ‘see’ your dead brother for  _ liver failure _ . Shit, something was going on here. Something bad. Maybe Gerard really was messed up.

“Keep up the good work!” The nurse beamed, and Frank nodded absentmindedly at her as he walked out the door, back down the hall to his room. Before his mind could go back to Gerard, he was distracted by a group of girls walking past him, whispering in each other’s ears. 

Frank had gotten used to the stares by now, and knew the best routes around the hospital for avoiding other anorexic patients. He’d been confronted by one once, asking why he wasn’t in the unit for eating disorders. Frank had simply told her that he didn’t have a fucking clue, pressing his third finger to his chin in case she had misunderstood. No one had bothered him after that.

Ducking through the doors, Frank slipped out of his ward into the one next over - addiction. After the tube had been taken out, Frank had been pressured into eating a few meals. They were his first of the entire treatment, and it felt amazing to finally eat something with texture (as opposed to have it draining from a bag). That feeling didn’t last long, though, and after the tight stomach and burning palms had been too much for Frank, he’d decided to go on a search for a restroom where he wouldn’t be recognized.

He’d found the bathroom of the addiction ward to be the quietest. Not only did it not require a key-card to open, but so many patients transferred in and out of the ward that – as long as he hid in loose clothing - no one glanced at him twice. Frank often stumbled across contraband lazily hidden under the sink or in the ceiling tiles, but he didn’t touch any of it. He wasn’t there for that; he was just coming in to do his stuff and then leaving. It was significantly neater than trying to pull food out of his stomach tube, but Frank was fairly certain anything would be cleaner than that. 

✰✰✰

Cold water stung Frank’s eyes as he washed his face, but the feeling was rather dull compared to the burning in the back of his throat. Frank decided that he really needed to cut his nails, and the idea only furthered by the dark red blossoms that grew in the sink as he spat into it. Jesus, Frank cursed the fucker that used nail clippers as a weapon, making the item automatically contraband. Any more cuts to the throat and surely someone would notice his hoarse voice. 

Letting the water run, Frank waited until all the evidence was gone before leaving. He didn’t need to worry about the smell; the room reeked of pot anyway. Closing the door behind him, Frank slipped out of the bathroom and back to his unit. 

Gerard was at therapy when Frank returned, but Frank didn’t really mind. He needed time to think, and this would be a good opportunity. Frank was about to close the door to his room when Lindsey suddenly appeared, holding the door open with her hand. “Wait!” 

Frank pulled back a little in surprise, muttering, “Fuck,” under his breath. “Uh, hey, Lindsey,” Frank said slowly, looking her over. Lindsey was still in her pajamas – an unusual sighting for someone who was normally so coordinated with their style. Frank wasn’t surprised to notice her full face of make-up though, and knew better than to assume she slept with it that way.

“Frank,” Lindsey whined, plopping down on Gerard’s bed. Frank was glad she hadn’t chosen his. “Hayley’s mad at me.”

“What did you do to her?” Frank sighed, only half-joking.

“Nothing!” Lindsey shot, before huffing and pushing her hair away from her eyes. “Okay,  _ maybe _ we had an argument over some cigs, but I was right! She’s just stupid.”

“Yeah, okay,” Frank rolled his eyes, sitting down on his own bed so he was across from her. “Is that all?”

“Not exactly,” Lindsey paused to ponder something, chewing on her painted fingernail before asking, “Can I ask you a question?”

Frank shrugged. “Only if I can ask you one in return. It’s a trade.” Fuck, was this a good idea? What was he getting himself into? “You go first.” Frank supposed it couldn’t hurt too much. 

“All right, so,” Lindsey leaned forward, her eyes lit, and the argument with Hayley completely forgotten. “I know you said you’re straight, but –”

“No, no,” Frank cut in quickly, waving his had in the air. “Stop, that’s not fair. You can’t ask that sort of shit.”

“Yes I can!” Lindsey defended herself. “If you answer this, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about your question.”

Frank chewed the inside of his mouth, shifting a little in his seat. It was worth it; he had to know. He had to ask her. “Fine,” He frowned, looking at the ceiling in defeat. “Go ahead.”

Lindsey pressed her hands together, her voice dropping to slightly above a whisper. “You know how Ryan said – well, that thing . . . Are you and Gerard actually boyfriends?”

“No!” Frank snapped, his voice harsh. Realizing he was shouting, he quickly quieted. “Why would you ask that? You were there; you heard Gerard say we’re not together.” He drew in a deep breath, blowing it out sharply as he added, “And I’m not into guys, Lindsey.”

Lindsey smiled at this, putting her hands in the air defensively. “Sure, but the facts say otherwise.”

“What facts?” Frank was getting tired of this. 

“Um, the fact that you haven’t hit on me  _ once _ , this entire time?” Lindsey stated, raising her brow. “Or like, anyone? C’mon, I even made a move when you first got here, and you totally rejected me, man.”

“Just because I don’t like you makes me suddenly gay?” Frank asked, and Lindsey shrugged. “Of course not.” She replied. “I’m just saying, if you  _ are  _ into guys, there’s one here that is very obviously into you.”

“Who?” Frank asked, and Lindsey laughed. “Is that your one question?”

“No,” Frank shook his head. “But both of my questions have to do with Gerard,”

“I never said Gerard was the guy,” Lindsey said, making Frank realize his mistake. “Shit, no – that’s not what I meant,” Frank stammered, before covering his eyes with one hand. “Fuck you, Lindsey,” He groaned as she collapsed on the bed, laughing. 

“Okay, okay, go,” Lindsey managed to spit out as she sat up, fighting off the remaining laughter. “Ask away,”

Frank gave her another moment to compose herself, before asking, “You’ve known Gerard for a long time, right?” Frank rubbed his forehead, not meeting Lindsey’s gaze. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

Shit, that sounded bad. “That - That didn’t come out right,” Frank stammered, but Lindsey was nodding. “Yeah, I do. I mean, sort of,”

There was a moment of silence where neither knew what to say. Frank supposed he should have known Lindsey wasn’t just going to spell it all out for him, but he wasn’t sure what he  _ had  _ expected. “Gerard – He thought he saw his dead brother.” Frank said, the words coming out quickly. “I don’t know what to do. It doesn’t feel right, Lindsey. I said I’d help him find his brother, but what if I’m looking for someone that doesn’t exist? Is he - Fuck, Lindsey, he’s not like,” Frank frowned. “He’s not crazy, right?”

Lindsey sighed, rocking back and forth on the bed, swinging her legs. “He’s kind of messed up, Frank.” She said after a moment. “But no, he’s not ‘crazy’ in that sense. Whatever he saw, it was real.”

Frank was flooded with relief, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. So Mikey  _ was  _ real, or at least he wasn’t dead. Frank wasn’t sure if his problems had been solved, or the worst of them had just begun. 

\---

It didn’t take Mikey long to realize he was dreaming again.

He’d been confused for a few moments after he’d awoken in an unusual room, but Mikey recognized the strange feeling this time. Deciding to embrace it, he relaxed and took in the scene. Maybe it would show him something useful. After all, it was his own brain creating these, they must mean something.

“Goddammit,” A boy was holding Mikey, hugging him tight. Mikey couldn’t see the boy’s face as they were too close, but he had little doubt in his mind that it was the boy from the waiting room.

Mikey was surprised when the boy pulled back, revealing no scar on his nose. Mikey studied his face as the boy shook his head slowly. The guy  _ looked  _ the same. . . Mikey guessed he hadn’t gotten the scar yet. After all, the boy looked significantly younger here than any other time Mikey had seen him.

But if he didn’t have the scar now, then who gave it to him?  _ God, I hope it’s not me,  _ Mikey thought suddenly, anxiety welling in his chest.  _ No, this boy seems nice. I really, really, hope I don’t do anything to him. _

“Fuck,  _ fuck _ !” The boy swore, keeping one hand on Mikey’s shoulder and balling the other into a fist. “They can’t  _ do  _ that, Mikey! Fuck,” His voice hitched, and Mikey realized the boy was crying. It was only then that he realized  _ he  _ was crying too.  _ What happened to him?  _ Mikey wondered.  _ Why are we crying? _

“Fuck’s a bad word, Gerard,” Mikey heard his dream-self mumble into the sleeve of his jacket, but he had just found something much more important than the fact he was crying.  _ Gerard _ . The boy’s name was Gerard.

✰✰✰

Mikey was staring up at the ceiling, a feat he found himself performing more and more often as the days went on.

His dream had been interrupted by a tech coming to get him for physical therapy, a program Mikey was quickly learning to despise. Fine, he couldn’t move very well. That didn’t mean it needed to be broadcasted for the entire hospital to see! Mikey swore everyone was watching him no matter where he went in that room. After all, he was the only one with a hospital gown and a paint-balled-neck.

If this was how animals at the zoo felt – trying to mind their own business but never getting a moment alone– Mikey suddenly had a great empathy for them. 

There was a knock at the door. “Michael?” Another knock. “Can I come in?”

“Yes,” Mikey murmured, keeping the, “You only have to knock once,” to himself.

It was Dr. Witt. He walked in swiftly, his pristine white coat and tall posture making Mikey suddenly conscious of his tangled hair and cross-legged sitting position.

“How are you feeling, Michael?” Dr. Witt said his name too often, but Mikey decided not to point it out. “Good.”

“I heard you had a bit of an adventure yesterday, huh?”

Mikey stiffened, but continued to pick at his nails. “I-I don’t know w-what you mean,” Mikey replied, his voice barely above a whisper. The fear in his chest was causing a stutter, and Mikey prayed that it didn’t give him away.

Dr. Witt laughed. “It’s okay, Michael. I’m not here to lecture you, I’m just bringing in a visitor.” He stepped aside to reveal Donna. Mikey hadn’t seen her in a few days, and stared blankly back at her attempted smile.

“I’ll leave you two to it!” Dr. Witt turned to leave. “But from now on, stay put please, Michael. It’s for your own safety.” With that, he exited, leaving Mikey and Donna in silence.

“You’re back,” Mikey commented after a moment, and Donna winced. “Yeah, sorry.” Mikey wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for.

“Can I sit?” Donna asked, and Mikey nodded. She pulled up a chair, tapping her fingers on her purse nervously. “How have you been, Mikey?” Donna asked softly, and Mikey shrugged. “Living that glamorous hospital life, I guess.” 

Donna laughed, catching Mikey off-guard. He hadn’t meant to be funny. “So good then, I take it?” She smiled, and he looked around the room, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t know,” He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, feeling his fingers run over its scratched-up surface.

“Can you tell me more?” Donna looked up at him with big eyes, and Mikey shrugged again. “I-I don’t know,” He repeated, swallowing hard to try and stop his stutter. “Everything feels kind of messed up, you know?”

_ No, of course she doesn’t know,  _ Mikey berated himself, but to his surprise, Donna nodded understandingly. “On the outside or inside, Mikey?”

Mikey paused to consider this, before answering, “Both.” His body was messed up, but so was his brain. “Everything’s all jumbled up in my head. I wish someone would unscramble it for me.” He stopped then, realizing that he probably sounded stupid. “Sorry, sorry,” Mikey muttered, keeping his gaze on the ground. “Forget about that, sorry.”

Donna’s mouth tightened and her brow furrowed sympathetically. “Mikey,” She looked hurt. No, no, no, Mikey hadn’t meant to do that. She spoke quickly, her words thick with emotion, “You can ask me anything, Mikey. I want to help in any way I can.”

Mikey glanced at her, their eyes meeting for a moment. Donna had large, glassy eyes that seemed to suck him in. Mikey looked away again quickly, disliking the feeling they gave him. “Do you know who Gerard is?”

Donna froze, her face paling, but Mikey barreled on regardless. She’d said that she wanted to help. “He’s, uh,” Mikey struggled to think of what Gerard looked like. “He’s got dark hair, and this scar across the bridge of his nose.”

“Who told you that?” Donna said accusingly, and Mikey drew back in shock. “N-No one!” He stammered, shying away from the anger in her voice.

“So you remember him, but not me?” Donna frowned, and Mikey shook his head rapidly. “No!” His voice sounded choked. “I don’t know who he is, that’s why I’m asking.”

“You’re not supposed to know about him!” Donna said in alarm, and Mikey continued to shake his head, feeling his back press harder against the wall as he backed up on his bed. “I didn’t mean to,” Mikey desperately tried to explain. “I just saw him and thought –”

“You _saw_ him?” Donna was astonished, standing up. Mikey resisted the urge to jump off his bed and run. He wished she hadn’t stood. “Who the fuck runs this place? You _saw_ him? How did you see him?”

Panic had a firm hold on Mikey’s throat now, and he could feel the tears slipping out of his eyes. “I don’t know!” He whispered wretchedly. Maybe this was why he was crying in the dream; maybe Donna had been there. Maybe she’d been yelling at him, telling him that he was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong –

The door swung open suddenly, and Donna spun around to face the nurse who’d appeared in their room. “I’m sorry ma’am, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Mikey recognized the nurse; she’d been at a few of his therapy sessions and stopped by often to bring him his meals. He’d never paid too close attention to her before, but as she spoke she immediately became Mikey’s new favorite nurse. 

“You can’t make me leave! He’s my son!” Donna cried, before closing her eyes and sighing deeply. “I’m sorry, I just – I can’t deal with him!”

“Ma’am, Dr. Witt has put strict regulations about this patient.” The nurse began. “As you know, he’s extremely fragile and I think that yelling could really affect our progress with him. Anyone interfering with progress will be asked to leave. No offense ma’am, but the facility could care less if you’re the patient’s mother, or the Queen of England. ”

Donna was his mother? Now that Mikey thought about it, he supposed he had heard her mention something like that before. He guessed it never sunk it, but it didn’t matter anyway because he’d ruined it all. “I’m  _ s-sorry _ ,” Mikey didn’t mean to keep apologizing, but he didn’t know what else to say. “What did I do?”

“Ma’am, please –”

“Nothing.” Donna said firmly, looking Mikey in the eye so coldly that he felt as if he couldn’t look away. “You didn’t do anything, Mikey. But there’s a world out there,” She pointed out his window. “And a world in here.” She pointed at his head. “I deal with the one out there, because you’ll never be able to leave the one in here.”

With that, Donna stormed out of the room for what Mikey hoped wasn’t the last time.

**\---**

It was close to two am when Gerard practically had a heart-attack.

The midnight shift had just ended, and someone off the morning-shift crew had just dropped by, glancing through the wired glass window in the door before continuing on their rounds. Gerard was used to it by now, but Frank would still get startled every now and then by the sudden visits. Frank hadn’t been affected just now though, as he was asleep. 

And Gerard may or may not have been watching him do so.

In his defense, he didn’t  _ mean  _ to. It wasn’t like Gerard had much to do in this place; he was bored! And Frank was very interesting, so it was a win-win as far as Gerard was concerned.

Gerard watched the outline of Frank’s shape in the ‘dark.’ The lights never truly went out, just dimmed, but it was enough to impair his vision. Frank looked so perfect as he slept; Gerard was confident that if he’d had some pencils he would have drawn the scene. But before he could consider if it was worth an attempt with crayons, Frank rolled over, eyes open.

“Can’t sleep?” Gerard asked quietly, and Frank shook his head. “Do you have any weed?” He asked, and Gerard coughed out a laugh. “No?” He snorted, before asking, “Is something wrong?”

Frank grunted. “Maybe, I don’t know. My parents want to talk to me again; that’s never a good sign. Someone great-uncle probably died.”

“Hey, he might have left you a nice inheritance,” Gerard suggested jokingly, before his expression sobered. “Frank, they’re your parents. They just want to talk.”

“Whose side are you on?” Frank snapped accusingly, eyeing Gerard, who put up his hands in defense. “I’m not on anyone’s side!” Gerard insisted. “I’m just saying, talking to your mom might not mean the end of the world, okay?”

“How would you know?” Frank frowned. “You don’t even have parents.”

“I had foster ones,” Gerard corrected him, smiling faintly to mask the hurt in his voice. “Some were better than others, but if  _ one person  _ from the outside was trying to contact me, I’d answer that phone in a minute.”

“That’s different,  _ you’re  _ different.” Frank objected, before heaving a loud sigh and pulling his hair against his head as he ran his fingers through it. “I don’t feel like fighting right now. Does anyone else in this place have weed?”

“Interesting,” Gerard observed in amusement. “I hadn’t marked you down as a pothead. Well, Hayley definitely has some, and that asshole Ryan. But I only have beer.”

“Actually, a drink would be great,” Frank mumbled. The response was so unlike Frank that Gerard wondered if the boy was still half-asleep. “For real?” Gerard asked, clawing under his bed for a can. “You know these have calories, right?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Frank flipped him off as he sat up, taking the beer. Gerard grabbed one for himself, too. They sat in silence for a long time, and Gerard was beginning to wonder if Frank planned on spending the entire drink in silence before the guy spoke up, asking Gerard the question that would convince him his heart had stopped beating right in his chest. “Gerard, how did you know you were gay?”

Gerard tried his best to hide his spiritual cardiac failure, taking his time to swallow the last of his can before replying, “Asking for a friend, I presume?”

“Whatever,” Frank rolled his eyes, and Gerard laughed. “I don’t know, man,” He started. “I guess it just took a while. I had to try things out with some people; find what I like and what I didn’t.”

“So, what you’re saying is to become a slut,” Frank pointed out, and Gerard objected hastily. “ _ No _ ,” He cut in. “What I’m saying is that you’ve got to give it time.” Gerard tilted his head to the side, thinking. “Okay, and  _ maybe _ be a slut. But just a little bit.”

“Great plan,” Frank was the one laughing now, and Gerard hit him with his pillow, saying, “It  _ is  _ a great plan! You don’t even have to be like, a  _ slut  _ slut. Just go around kissing people or something.”

“A mouth-slut?”

“Yes!” Gerard agreed, before quickly changing his mind. “Wait – Uh, actually, no.” He added quickly, making Frank laugh. “Are you suggesting that we kiss?” Frank asked. “Because that’s what it sounds like.”

Gerard wouldn’t deny to panicking quite a bit in that very moment, because fuck, Frank Iero had just suggested they kiss,  _ right here _ , in their bedroom, and quite honestly Gerard didn’t know what to do.

“Offer’s on the table,” Gerard said, and Frank smiled, pulling up his hood and laying back down in bed. “I’ll consider your offer.” Frank said as he rolled over, turning his back to Gerard as he went to sleep.

✰✰✰

It turned out that Frank’s parents had been calling him to wish him a happy birthday. 

A birthday Frank had apparently forgotten to mention to anyone else, especially Gerard.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was today?” Gerard asked Frank for the millionth time, earning a sigh from the other boy. “Why does it matter so fucking much?”

They were in the middle of a floor meeting at the moment; the first thing on everyone’s schedules today. Two psychotic patients had gotten in an argument with the entire addiction unit, accusing them of playing music too loudly at night. Everyone was so busy trying to resolve the issue that no one noticed Frank and Gerard’s side conversation.

“ _ Because _ ,” Gerard gave an exasperated scoff. “Telling me would have made it so obvious on why your parents were calling you. And, I could have thrown you an epic birthday party!”

“With a cupcake at lunch?” Frank asked sourly. “Because an extra two-hundred calories seems to scream ‘happy birthday,’ according to my nutritionist.”

“Damn, they’re doing that to you?” Gerard asked in shock, before realizing what he was saying. “Frank,” He added softly. “It’s just one cupcake. On your  _ birthday _ . That’s completely normal.”

Frank shrugged, looking away. “I didn’t expect you to understand.”

“Frank,” Gerard almost laughed, but managed to hold it in. “What, you’re mad at me now? Is that how it’s going to be?”

His question was quickly interrupted by a chain of shouts, ranging from a raised voice to a full-blown screech.

“There is no freaking music!” A girl wearing a pink T-shirt shouted. A nurse was actively trying to calm her down, but she wasn’t having any of it. “You’re imagining it! It’s all in your delusional head.”

The boy across the room from her stomped his foot, shouting, “It is not a delusion! I am  _ tired  _ of hearing  _ Kanye  _ at three-am!”

“It’s not Kanye, you absolute idiot!” Pink T-shirt girl raged, her voice jumping an octave. “No one listens to whiny Kanye!”

“So, you admit to playing music, then?” The lady running the meeting asked, her raised brows folding wrinkles into her forehead. Pink T-shirt girl’s mouth opened and closed in surprise. “I – No! Screw you, I can play whatever music I want!”

“C’mon, let’s ditch,” Gerard nudged Frank’s shoulder, signaling to a nurse that they had to use the bathroom. She gave them a skeptical look (because, really? They  _ both  _ had to use the bathroom?), but didn’t do anything to stop them as they left.

Lindsey gave Gerard a face of mock betrayal for leaving without her, but Gerard knew she’d get over it. “That nurse must be new,” He murmured to Frank as they snuck down the hallway and out of sight of the common room. Frank looked at him curiously as they walked. “Why do you say that?”

Gerard grinned. “All the bathrooms are locked.”

“Oh, right,” Frank nodded quietly, and Gerard glanced over at him. Was something wrong? “So, it’s really your birthday, huh?” Gerard asked, trying to get him talking.

“Yeah,” Frank shrugged casually. “Seventeen on Halloween.”

“Fuck, is it already almost November?” Gerard shook his head in disbelief. “It must be awesome, having your birthday on Halloween.”

Frank snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Not if I have to hear comments from every nurse I meet.” The boy replied, changing his voice to a mocking tone as he imitated the nurses. “October thirty-first? Did you know that’s Halloween? That’s pretty lucky – oops, Halloween - I mean,  _ unlucky _ .” Frank rolled his eyes. “Fucking  _ hilarious _ .”

Gerard chuckled. “Fair enough,” He agreed.

The two walked in silence for a moment, before Frank quietly laughed to himself. “Having your birthday in a hospital; that’s got to be a whole new level of depressing.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Gerard argued, and Frank raised a brow. “Uh, yeah, it does. Not to be a prick or anything, but what could I even do in here?”

“Who said we had to stay in here?” Gerard asked. “The floor meetings are fully staffed; all we have to do is go down a floor and we’re out.”

“Really?” Frank’s expression shifted slightly, but remained unreadable to Gerard. “Explain it to me,” He demanded, so Gerard complied.

“It’s before eight-am, so the elevators will be shut off for our level.” Gerard explained. “If we take the stairs down a flight, we’ll be on a floor with working elevators. From there we’ll just pretend we’re visitors.”

“Wow,” Frank seemed faintly impressed. “That might actually work, and it wasn’t nearly as dumb as I’d expected.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Gerard grinned, and Frank scoffed. “It’s almost like you’ve done this before.” He said sarcastically, and Gerard laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’ve done worse.” Gerard admitted. “It’s not every day you get an empty floor,”

“I’m sold, let’s go.” Frank threw his hands in the air. “Where are the stairs?” He asked, making Gerard pause, his mouth partially open. 

“What?” Frank narrowed his eyes at Gerard, who faltered. “I – uh,” Gerard scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Sorry, but you can - uh, you can walk down the stairs, right?”

“No,” Frank said flatly. “In a tragic car-accident that occurred twenty years ago, I lost mobility of both my legs and am now unable to walk down any stairs;  _ specifically  _ those of hospitals while I am trying to escape floor meetings.”

Gerard stifled a laugh, failing to keep his face straight. “I was being serious!” He protested, and Frank folded his arms, “So was I.”

“Whatever,” Gerard turned, still smiling. “Come on, the stairs are this way.”

\---

Never in a million years would Frank have imagined he would be here right now, escaping from a hospital, on his birthday, in the middle of the day, with a boy who gave him  _ really  _ confusing feelings that Frank  _ really _ wished would just fuck off.

It had started when him and Gerard had gone downstairs. Before leaving, they’d snuck into (what they had mistaken for) an empty office room to try and find scissors to cut off their hospital bands. As they walked in, they realized that the room was in fact  _ not  _ empty, but instead contained two boys scrolling through the office computers. 

The first boy yelped, falling off his chair in surprise, while the other had called to them, “Keep walking and there’s twenty dollars coming your way.” He paused, before adding, “How about this; if you tell me your name, I’ll ask Dr. Vasquez not to give you a night shift for a  _ week _ .”

“Tempting offer, but we’re just looking around,” Gerard held up his wrist to display the hospital band, before brushing past them to search through desk drawers.

“You’re patients!” The curly-haired boy exclaimed; his eyes wide. “With a  _ blue  _ wrist band! What’s that, the floor down?”

“No,” The other boy corrected the first as he switched desks, logging into a new computer. “Yellow is the floor down, blue is up.”

“Found some!” Gerard said suddenly, proudly showing Frank a box cutter.

“What do you need  _ that _ for?” The boy closest to him asked, scrambling to his feet to get a better look. He had curly black hair, and his face was twisted with curiosity. “Stabbing someone?”

“Uh, no?” Frank scrunched his nose, pretending not to notice as the boy tilted his head, looking Frank up and down. To Frank’s relief, he made no comments.

Suddenly, something went off in Frank’s mind, telling him that the boy hadn’t commented because Frank didn’t look sick enough. It was because he’d eaten; if he hadn’t eaten, he would have looked like  _ this  _ and they boy would have commented and –

Frank took a deep breath, pushing his thoughts away.  _ Not now. _

“Well, it’s obvious not for cutting boxes,” The boy commented, getting the answer to his question as Gerard rolled up his sleeve, cutting off the band before doing the same to Frank.

“Ooh,” The curly-haired boy admired. The other boy, who hadn’t looked up from his computer since Frank and Gerard walked in, suddenly slammed his hand down on the keyboard in excitement. “It’s here!” He cried. “Dean, look! It’s Mikey’s file!”

“I’ll print it, let’s just go quick before we get caught.” The two hovered over the screen, but Frank wasn’t paying attention to them. His eyes were locked on Gerard, who looked like he’d just been hit in the face.

“Gerard?” Frank touched his arm lightly, and Gerard shook his head. “It’s probably another Mikey,” He murmured, but Frank could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“Hey, what’s this Mikey’s last name?” Frank called to the curly-haired boy, who looked over at him, before glancing down at the screen again. “It says, uh,” He bit his lip. “One sec, it’s at in the beginning.” 

Time seemed to slow as the boy scrolled to the top of the page and paused before reading out the name. “Way.”

Well, fuck.

It took Frank less than a second to conclude that he was in some serious shit now, because fuck, there was no denial that Mikey was in fact a real human being. Of course, Frank had known since his talk with Lindsey that Mikey had existed, but a small part of his brain had continued to tell him that maybe Gerard had mistaken another patient for his brother, or maybe it was a cruel prank, or Lindsey was wrong and Gerard really  _ was  _ crazy, and although Frank couldn’t yet prove that the last statement was wrong, he knew that he had been wrong about Mikey. Mikey was real.

Gerard had barely opened his mouth to speak when the door was thrown open and a group of staff stormed in. “Dean! Lance!  _ Out! _ ” A man yelled furiously, and Gerard was racing out of the door in an instant, pulling Frank by the hand behind him. Frank just barely had the time to see the boys grab their printed papers as they were hauled out of the room, and Frank hoped that they wouldn’t rat him and Gerard out. 

“That was real nice and subtle,” Frank commented once they’d stopped running, bending over to put his hands on his knees as he gasped for breath. “Glad we’re staying on the down-low.”

Gerard shook his head slowly. “I wish I’d gotten a chance to ask them more. Jesus, they probably knew where Mikey’s room was and everything.”

“We can go back,” Frank offered, although he hoped Gerard wouldn’t agree. Gerard didn’t. “No,” He declined. “It’d be a waste of time. Plus, we can do it later. Right now, we’re going to do something fun.”

“That’s unnecessary, really,” Frank insisted. “I just want some fresh air; don’t make it about me.”

“We’ll see,” Gerard laughed, and Frank felt a twinge in his chest because shit, Gerard cared. He was doing something nice for Frank, out of the fucking goodness of his fucking heart, and Frank didn’t deserve one bit of it.

Frank didn’t respond, looking down at the floor as he followed Gerard to the elevators.

**\---**

Mikey hadn’t planned on making his hair this short; it had just happened.

It had been falling into his eyes more frequently these days, and this morning something inside of Mikey had just snapped. He’d clambered out of bed - no IVs attached this time (he still had to wear an oxygen tube at night, but at least his arms were free).

He’d then gone to the room over, where the only person inside was a woman watching TV. She was seated on her hospital bed, with a tray of food in front of her. After a few seconds of going unnoticed, Mikey spoke up. “Hi,” He mumbled, looking away as she glanced up at him. “Hey, there.” She replied cheerily. “Are you lost?”

“No,” Mikey shook his head, staring intently at the linoleum floor. “Uh, do you have any scissors?”

“Scissors?” The woman glanced suspiciously down at his arms. “Sorry, I don’t think I can give you those.”

Realizing what she was looking for, Mikey tried to explain. “No – I was in a coma; I got hit by a car or something. I’m trying to cut my hair. Not um, not - ”

“Hit by a car or  _ something _ ?” The woman asked incredulously, and it took Mikey a moment to realize what she was referring to.

“Yeah, I d-don’t,” Mikey began to stutter, and quickly clamped his mouth shut. It didn’t matter; he had no clue where he was planning to go with that sentence anyway.  _ I don’t know if a car hit me? I don’t know what happened? I don’t know who I am, so I bribed two other patients into stealing my file for me? _

Did that make him a bad person? He wasn’t supposed to steal – Mikey knew that. And he  _ definitely _ wasn’t supposed to get other people to steal for him. Mikey was suddenly reminded of Donna, and wondered what she would think of the situation. Would she hate him for it? Is this why she’d gotten so mad at him? Maybe she knew – she must have known.

Seeing his panicked face, the woman took pity on Mikey. “Would cosmetic scissors work for hair-cutting? Those are all I’ve got.”

Mikey didn’t know what cosmetic scissors were, but he nodded gratefully. “Here,” The woman handed them to him. “I need them back, though, alright?”

Mikey nodded silently again, and stalked back into his own room, where he proceeded to cut his hair far too short for his liking. It wasn’t that it looked bad – No, that wasn’t the problem at all. In fact, Mikey had surprised himself with how not-bad his hair looked (he wasn’t going as far as to call it good quite yet, but it was getting there).

The problem was the paint-ball mark on the side of his head. It had remained hidden under Mikey’s long hair since he’d discovered it all that time back, but now there was nothing to cover the scars running down his neck and ear, slashing across the pale skin. Mikey supposed there was nothing he could do now. 

If Mikey had owned a sweatshirt, he probably would have worn it, but he’d been living in varying shades of hospital gowns up until now. He’d borrowed unused scrub bottoms from some unknown nurse’s supply during a PT session a few days ago, and had yet to give them back and was still wearing the dark blue pants. Mikey figured he should probably get some normal clothes soon. Maybe if Donna hadn’t left he could have asked her to bring him some, but she  _ had  _ left and it was too late for that now.

If only Bob were here, then he could tell Mikey what to do.

Mikey was suddenly hit by how lonely he was. With Donna and Bob both gone, who did he have left?

✰✰✰

“Here, thank you,” Mikey said as he handed back the scissors. 

The woman took them from him, eyeing his new hair. “I like it!” She remarked, her gaze flitting over him. “Thanks,” He said again, and as he turned to walk back out of the room, he was stopped by her voice.

“That’s not from a car.”

“What?” Confused, Mikey turned around, and the lady motioned towards his neck. “Your scar. You said you were hit by a car. That’s not from a car,” She repeated, and Mikey stiffened. He didn’t want to hear this - he needed to go.

“Sorry,” Mikey mumbled as he walked out, because Bob had already told him all of that and he didn’t need to be told again. Mikey knew was she was going to say and didn’t want to hear the word  _ gun _ again because the word  _ gun  _ made him think things that he didn’t understand and when he –

“Mikey!” A shout broke into Mikey’s thoughts, making him jump. Turning around, Mikey saw an energetic Lance and Dean approaching him. 

“We got it!” Dean held out a stack of papers, and Lance added, “You better fucking appreciate this, we risked our asses out there!”

“I do,” Mikey insisted, nodding quickly before continuing to walk. “The bag’s by my bed.” He grabbed the bag quickly, handing it off to an eager Lance before taking the papers cautiously from Dean’s hands.

“Read it!” Dean said, grinning. “Lance and I tried to earlier, but then we got  _ so  _ busted by Dr. Vasquez. He was shouting and  _ everything _ !”

Mikey opened his mouth, not sure how to respond, but was quickly saved by Lance. “Nah, let him read it alone.” Lance shook his head. “Plus, these are calling to me,” He jabbed a finger at the bag, and Dean rolled his eyes. “We’ll be upstairs if you want anything, Mikey,” Dean said as he followed Lance out.

Mikey paused, thinking. Was that an invitation? Were he and Dean (and maybe Lance) friends?

Mikey shook his head, clearing away the thoughts. He didn’t have time to focus on that as he looked down at the paper, his eyes darting across the pages as he devoured the words. There would be time to scrutinize the details later, but for now, all Mikey wanted were answers, and he wanted them fast.

He knew almost immediately that this document was very different from the one he’d read in the receptionist’s room. Everything was much further in detail, and Mikey began to realize the possibility of what he could find in here.  _ Anything  _ could be in these papers.

Suddenly his eyes landed on his list of emergency contacts, followed by legal guardians. Just like the first document, Donna was listed as his current one. But this file had four others as well, crossed out with X’s.

_ Way, Donald J _

_ Lottman, Abigale Lottman, Neil _

_ Llovedo, Maria _

Mikey read the names over and over again, finding no answers among the text. Surely it was a mistake. Or had his file been switched up with another patient’s? Donna was his biological mother, wasn’t she? So that meant she should have been first on the list, but she clearly wasn’t.

Did Mikey really have four other ‘parents’ out there, waiting for him?

Mikey considered this for while, crossing his arms over himself protectively. His thoughts raced, and he shut his eyes slowly. Did those people know about him? Had they loved him? If they’d loved him, why did they give him away? And why were there  _ four _ of them? Did most people go through so many homes?

Suddenly Mikey felt hot with shame running through him. How could he forget them? These were people who had cared for him, and now he didn’t have a clue who they were. No wonder they’d left Mikey, he was such a failure.

The universe must have been looking out for Mikey though, because at that moment, Bob walked in.

“Guess who landed back in this dump?” Bob called, and Mikey had never been happier to hear someone’s voice.

“Bob!” Mikey cried, jumping out of bed to hug Bob, who promptly dropped his suitcase in surprise. “Whoa, whoa,” Bob backed up, and Mikey let go quickly. “You’re back!” Mikey beamed, his voice quiet but happy.

Bob shrugged. “I supposed my cancer just decided it missed you.” He paused, examining Mikey. “Fuck, are you crying? Man, I didn’t know you missed me  _ that  _ much.”

_ Don’t flatter yourself,  _ Mikey thought wryly, but shook his head. “I’m okay, I’m fine.”

“You don’t  _ look  _ fine,” Bob pointed out. “But I do like the haircut. Damn, you’re still in a hospital gown, though.”

“I don’t have any other clothes.” Mikey explained, and Bob frowned. “Well, that fucking sucks.” He concluded. “You can borrow some of mine, once I unpack all this shit all over again.”

Mikey tried to decline, but Bob insisted, interrupting him. “Stop it. Go back to the crying. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Mikey said. “But there are these.” He motioned towards the pile of papers he was holding, and Bob looked at them curiously. “What is it?” He asked.

“Everything the hospital has on my medical history.”

There was an awkward pause, before Bob blew out a low whistle. “Fun,” He said sarcastically, before asking, “So, what’d you find?”

Mikey shook his head. “Not much so far. Oh, but I have four parents.”

“Four?” Bob asked incredulously, and Mikey shrugged, handing him the papers, which Bob flipped through.

“Were you adopted or something, Mikey?” Bob turned to Mikey, who being uncomfortable under someone’s gaze, found him subconsciously trying to make himself smaller. “I don’t know.” Mikey admitted hesitantly, and Bob looked confused.

“No offense, dude, but I really don’t understand you.” Bob said, turning back to the papers and shaking his head. “How do you just  _ not  _ know?”

Mikey shifted his weight from foot to foot. He didn’t know what to say. What did Bob want to hear? “I was in a coma?” He tried, wringing his hands. “And hit by a car?”

“Truck is what your doctor said.” Bob corrected him. “And yeah, that shit’s serious, but I kind of thought you’d remember  _ something _ from your past by now.”

“Sorry,” Mikey looked away. “I wish I could remember stuff, too.”

Bob rolled his eyes and put a hand on Mikey’s shoulder supportively. “Don’t throw yourself a pity party,” He said, grinning. “Chin up, man. We’ve got a whole Bible’s worth of papers full of stuff about you, I’m sure we’ll find tons. Remember,” Bob added jokingly, when Mikey didn’t move his gaze from the floor. “At least you don’t have cancer.”

Mikey wanted to point out that by using his cancer against Mikey’s coma, Bob was technically the one throwing a pity party here, but he didn’t, instead motioning towards Bob’s – now abandoned – suitcase.

“Don’t you want to unpack that first?” Mikey asked, and Bob laughed. “Nah, man, this shit’s way more interesting. Here, let’s divide and conquer. You take half,” Bob said, splitting the stack down the middle and giving Mikey one of the two piles. “Tell me if you find anything interesting.”

“Everything in here’s interesting to me,” Mikey almost laughed, gazing over the papers. 

“Makes sense,” Bob nodded. “It would be to me to, if I were if your position. Anything you want me to look for first?”

“No,” Mikey said, before changing his mind quickly. “Actually, yeah. If there’s anything there about my family, I’d like to read it.” Suddenly he remembered the boy, the one with the scar on his nose that Mikey had seen earlier. “Oh, and um, someone named Gerard.”

“Gerard?” Bob asked. “So you  _ do  _ remember stuff, huh?”

Mikey shook his head quickly. “No, no. Well, maybe. I’ve had dreams about people, but I don’t think they’re real.”

“So then why would ‘Gerard’ be real?” Bob pointed out, and Mikey scrunched his brow. “I don’t know. I mean, I think I saw him, but it probably wasn’t him.”

“Here? You saw him in the hospital?” Bob sounded skeptical, and Mikey wondered if it was a mistake telling him.

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” Bob shrugged, giving Mikey a what-do-I-have-to-lose expression. “I’ll look.”

And so they looked, sharing information between them periodically. The majority of the papers had no interest from Mikey, as they were mainly full of his prescriptions from the past, every annual visit he’s head, and every cold medicine and Tylenol given to him,  _ ever. _ The only thing that he found even slightly intriguing in that section was the margin note about brain swelling, dating back a few years, from when he was nine years now. According to the document, he was fifteen now, and had been a citizen of New Jersey his entire life. 

It was getting close to the time when nurses would bring them dinner, and Mikey knew they’d have to pack everything up before then to avoid suspicion. (After all, Mikey didn’t come this far to have his files taken by a nurse). He was beginning to lose hope, when Bob suddenly stiffened, leaning over to show Mikey a page.

“Look at this.”

Although it had been printed out, Mikey could tell that the original copy of the page had been scanned, revealing how old and worn it was. If he had to guess, he would say it was one of the oldest documents by far. Most had started when he was three, but this one was from before he was one year old.

Taking the paper carefully, Mikey began to read.

_ Dear Mr. and Mrs. Lottman, _

_ I am writing you from a time of distress. Donald’s company is going into great debt, and yet he refuses to stop the testing prematurely. Depending on how this next week turns out, you could be given the children within the next fourteen days. Donald will handle the remaining logistics. The check is enclosed. If you have problems retrieving it, do not hesitate to contact us through a private line. _

_ We call the eldest Gerard, and I would appreciate his name being kept. The younger will be up to you. Donald has no preference, but from mother to mother, I am asking you to not separate the boys. I am aware that I am without a say as they are no longer mine, but being brothers, all they have are each other. _

Mikey stopped reading, his heart racing in his chest.

_ But being brothers, all they have are each other. _

_ Signed, Donna Way _

Brothers.

Gerard was his brother.

“He’s my  _ brother _ ,” Mikey said, and Bob glanced up at him. “Who?”

“Gerard.” Mikey answered, slightly shocked as the pieces began to fall in place. His dreams about Gerard weren’t just dreams, they were memories! They must have been from his childhood. But that still didn’t explain why Donna had been so upset over Mikey seeing Gerard.

Mikey didn’t have any more time to ponder this though, as right then a cart rolled in, distributing dinner and nighttime medication. Throwing his blanket over the papers, Mikey just barely hid them as the nurse walked in. She gave them their dinners, and Mikey took his medicine (which was  _ still  _ in liquid form, despite the fact that he was now very capable of swallowing). He could put on the oxygen tube by himself, but she still double-checked it before moving onto Bob, who she handed a sheet of paper to.

“Dr. Bascule wants to see you at nine tomorrow, once your labs from today are back.” The nurse read off her clipboard, handing Bob a cup of water to down his pills. “Don’t sleep in,” She warned as she left, and Bob rolled his eyes. “Like anyone can sleep here.”

Once she closed the door, Bob spoke up. “So, tell me about this brother of yours. You saw him at the hospital?”

“I think so,” Mikey said. “He has this scar on his nose – and we made eye contact. He just gave me the  _ weirdest look _ .”

“A weird look, huh?” Bob repeated. “Are you sure you weren’t just staring at him oddly?”

“I’m sure,” Mikey confirmed. “He told me to wait or something, but then I ran away.” Mikey stopped as a memory came back to him. “His hospital band was blue! What floor is that?”

“Blue?” Bob asked slowly. “Uh, that’s the floor above us. But . . .”

“But what?” Mikey pressed, and Bob shrugged. “Mikey, that floor’s kind of weird. You  _ sure  _ it was blue?”

“Positive.” Mikey nodded, doubt filling him. Weird? What did weird mean? Was there something wrong with Gerard? “Who’s on that floor?”

“Who’s on what floor?” A boy asked from the doorway, and Bob turned around quickly. “Dean!”

“Bob! What are you doing here?” Dean ran in, followed by Lance. The three talked for a few moments while Bob explained why he was back, then they all turned to Mikey.

“So,” Dean asked. “What’d you see in the file?”

“His brother, apparently,” Bob said, and Dean and Lance’s eyes widened as he added, “Who lives at this hospital.”

“Ooh, who?” Dean piped up, and Bob replied, “We don’t know. He has a blue wristband, though,”

“Wait,” Dean said, thinking. “Does he have, like, a scar on his nose?”

“Yes,” Bob and Mikey replied and unison, and Dean and Lance exchanged glances.

“Do you know him?” Mikey asked, brows raised, and Dean bit his lip. “Sorta? I mean, for maybe, two minutes? Three?”

“Really?” Bob asked. “Tell us about him.”

“Well, he doesn’t have that armband anymore.” Lance cut in, smiling. “He cut it off.”

“What?” Mikey asked, confused. Why would Gerard do that?

“Yeah, and he was with this really creepy guy, who was definitely super angry or something.” Dean commented. “The guy was like, super skinny. It was weird.”

“He was anorexic, idiot,” Lance poked him.

“Is Gerard anorexic, too?” Mikey had heard of the eating disorder unit through nurses and Bob’s occasional joking mention. If Gerard knew this guy, did that mean they were on the same floor? 

“No,” Dean said unconvincingly, and Lance shot him an elbow. “No, Mikey. He wasn’t.”

“I was just saying!” Dean protested. “You can never be too sure!”

But Mikey needed to be sure. He was going to find Gerard – and figure out this mess.

**\---**

“We’re getting on a _ bus _ ?” Frank asked Gerard incredulously, gaping up at him as they reached the bus stop, marked by a red metal sign. Gerard shrugged in reply. “They were all out of flying carpets.” He grinned, watching Frank resist the urge to hit his shoulder. It was quite entertaining, actually. 

No one had questioned the two of them as they’d left the hospital, but Gerard enjoyed watching Frank glance suspiciously (and maybe nervously) at everyone they passed.

“Are you sure we should do that? Isn’t this illegal?” Frank hissed at him, earning a few wary glances from strangers at the bus stop. Gerard’s expression warmed with amusement. “Why don’t you say that a little louder for the people in the back?” He teased, before reassuring Frank. “No, it’s not illegal; I have some bus cards.”

“Two cards?” Frank asked disbelievingly, and Gerard nodded. “Two.”

“Wait, how? Oh,” Frank paused, wrinkling his nose. “Who’d you steal them from?”

“Uh, no one. But thanks for your faith in me,” Gerard feigned hurt, before laughing. “I had a pass today, I got them from Lindsey. They’ve been in the office since she brought them from home, and I picked them up earlier.”

“You planned this?” Frank turned to Gerard as the bus pulled up, and Gerard grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the door. “Yep.”

“Then why did we sneak out?” Frank follow Gerard stiffly up the steps of the vehicle, and the two took their seats, pausing only when Gerard scanned the cards. “Life’s more fun that way,” Gerard replied, grinning.

As they sat Gerard let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and turned to Frank. “Hey, look, you survived!” Gerard nudged Frank’s shoulder, moving slightly closer to him, but Frank looked away. “Barely,” He snorted sarcastically, folding his arms tightly.

“Is everything okay?” Gerard asked, and Frank nodded, taking his gaze away from the window and back to Gerard. “Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He said quickly. “I just feel kind of gross, I didn’t mean to sound like a dick, though.”

“Gross as in sick?” Gerard asked nervously. Shit, that couldn’t be good. Had Frank skipped some medication while he’d been gone with Gerard? That could be dangerous. “Should we go back?” He said worriedly, and Frank looked at him, eyes round with surprise. “Fuck no!” Frank replied instantly. “I’m not going back there a moment sooner than I have to.”

Gerard grinned, but added sternly, “If anything happens, you better tell me right away. You are not allowed to die today.”

“Dually noted,” Frank said aloofly, in a tone that told Gerard that he would do the exact opposite. Suddenly, Frank spoke up, asking, “When did you ask Lindsey bus cards?”

“Awhile ago,” Gerard admitted. “But she’s pretty rich, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Awhile ago?” Frank repeated. “How long have you been planning this trip?”

Damn, Frank was smart. Gerard’s spur of the moment ‘idea’ may have just been slightly exposed, but he supposed Frank would have figured it out sooner or later.

“Since before the floor meeting.” Gerard said unhelpfully, before finishing, “Okay, maybe for like, a week. But I didn’t have a specific date in mind, and your birthday seemed as good a day as any.”

“Why did you ask for two?”

Gerard let the question hang in the air for a moment, before shrugging. “Because I like you, and I wanted to hang out with you. And it kind of seems like the feeling’s mutual?” He added hopefully, and Frank snorted. “Bold assumption.”

“Well, you may have also mentioned the possibility of us kissing earlier,” Gerard added.

“That doesn’t mean I like you!” Frank shot, but he was laughing. Once he’d composed himself, Frank asked, “Are we actually going to your house?”

Gerard shook his head. “No. I haven’t been back since I was eleven, and even if my foster mom was still living there, she’d just tell the hospital to come pick me up.”

It occurred to Gerard that going back home (if he could call it that) would mean going back to the place where Mikey lived as well. Maybe someone there could tell him about Mikey’s current whereabouts, and if he was dead or alive. 

Images of blood momentarily flashed in Gerard’s mind, but he pushed them away quickly. He didn’t have time to relive those right now. 

“Can I ask about your foster mother?” Frank asked, and Gerard agreed. “Yeah, of course.” He said. “We’ve got a little bit, our stop’s not for a few.” Although he wasn’t going to his house, he had a place in mind.

“What was she like?” Frank asked. “Wait, would it be rude to ask why you were in foster care?”

“To start, my parents were pretty shitty, from what I can remember.” Which was honestly not a lot. Gerard knew he’d built up walls around his childhood, and he wasn’t entirely ready to break them down just yet. He could explain things from the surface though, he hoped. “But I don’t know anything about them.” Gerard admitted. “I can barely remember their faces.”

“I mean, you were what, five? Most people can’t remember faces at that age.” Frank pointed out. “So, then what? You were moved to foster care?”

“Yeah, they put Mikey and I in a foster home.” Gerard confirmed. “There were a lot of other kids there, but it was never overly crowded. Our foster mom’s name was Maria, and she cared about us. The paychecks probably helped with that, though.”

“Did Maria ever come to visit you at the hospital?” Frank asked, and Gerard shook his head. “No. Since she was only temporarily caring for me, insurance wouldn’t cover her for my treatment. Someone else pays for it now, but I don’t know who, since they’ve never visited me, either.”

“How do you know it’s not Maria?”

“It’s not.” Gerard insisted. “Maria worked hard, but there was no spare money to throw around. Especially not on inpatient treatment - this shit costs a fortune.”

“Maybe she was military?” Frank proposed, but Gerard shot him down. “I seriously doubt it. If she got any help from the government, she wouldn’t have resorted to foster care for income.”

Frank thought for a moment. “Maybe your biological parents were military.” He suggested, and Gerard considered it. 

“That would make sense,” Gerard said. “Do you think the government’s been paying for my treatment this whole time?” The thought put a damper on Gerard’s mood. What if there wasn’t anyone out there, waiting for him? What if the government had been his only support all along, and no one truly did care?

“Are you good?” Frank asked, and Gerard glanced up, suddenly aware of the emotions on his face. “Uh, yep,” He said quickly, changing his expression to a grin. Today was about Frank’s birthday, not him. “The best ever.”

“Okaaaay,” Frank said slowly. “That was creepy and  _ slightly  _ suspicious, but we can definitely pretend like that didn’t happen.”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Gerard said, and there was a long pause. Neither of the boys spoke, and Gerard watched Frank as he turned to look out the window. “Can I ask you something weird?” Gerard said quietly, and Frank shrugged. “Ask whatever you want; doesn’t mean I’ll answer it.”

“Alright,” Gerard said awkwardly. “Can I ask about your, um,”

“Anorexia?” Frank suggested, and Gerard nodded mutely.

“Yeah,” Frank said. “I guess we haven’t really talked about it, have we? I guess it’s sort of taboo – once you say it out loud, it’s this whole  _ thing _ , you know?”

Gerard didn’t know, but he agreed anyway. “Why though? Like, why are you doing this?” 

Frank frowned, and Gerard worried he’d overstepped when Frank spoke again.

“I guess I just really disappointed my dad.” Frank said, looking back out the window. “He’s wanted to be in the military since he was born, and I wanted to play guitar. I just couldn’t make him happy, so I stopped trying.”

Frank looked unhappy, and Gerard decided to change the subject. This wasn’t the end of the conversation, though – they’d finish it another time. “I forgot your dad was in the military,” Gerard said, and Frank replied, “Yeah, well, talking about Maria reminded me of it.”

Gerard didn’t know whether to apologize or not. “I didn’t know you played guitar,” He said instead, and Frank glanced up at him.

“Do you play?” Frank asked, and Gerard shook his head. 

“For a few months, yeah, but I can barely do it anymore.” Gerard said, before sitting up quickly. “We’re here.” He pulled the cord, and after a few moments the bus pulled over to let them out.

They were in the city now, in a calm part of town with restaurants that had offices stacked above them. The streets were fairly busy with people driving home for the night, and the stores were decked with the occasional Halloween decoration. The sun was lower in the sky now, and Gerard was surprised by how much time had passed. It wasn’t quite close to getting dark yet, but it was moving there.

“What’s the plan?” Frank asked as they stepped off, standing on the sidewalk. Gerard noticed how Frank immediately pulled his sweatshirt around him as if trying to hide himself, and he felt a pang of sympathy towards the boy. 

“Uh, we walk around?” Gerard tried. Despite his skeptical look, Frank replied, “Okay.”

“Really?” Gerard asked, and Frank glanced over at him. “Sure, why not?”

And so they walked, down the street and around town. Gerard couldn’t help himself from constantly looking over at Frank to make sure he wasn’t about to fall over, but he never was. In fact, Frank looked a little happier than he had in awhile, but Gerard wasn’t sure if that was because of him, or because Frank was just relieved to be out of the hospital for once.

After about twenty minutes Frank grew tired, and the two paused to sit on a bench. The air was slightly cooler now, and a chilly fall wind brushed against Gerard’s neck. “Are you cold?” Gerard asked Frank, who seemed rather uncomfortable, with his hands in his pockets and his hood pulled over his head.

“I’m fine,” Frank quite obviously lied, so Gerard pulled off his own jacket, holding it out. Frank glanced at it with scrutiny, and then up at Gerard, his look clearly reading:  _ What’s this? _

“My jacket,” Gerard answered the thought, biting back a laugh. “Wear it.” 

Gerard could practically see the warring sides of Frank’s mind, but in the end he caved, taking the jacket and pulling it over his head. “This doesn’t mean anything,” He muttered as he did so, and Gerard grinned. “Of course not.”

Suddenly, a pair of little kids walked up to them – a girl and a boy - duteously clad in Halloween costumes. They looked to be around four or five, and Gerard wondered if they were lost, before the girl ran forward, pushing her pumpkin-shaped bag towards them and almost tripping and falling in the process. “Do you have candy?” She asked loudly, and the little boy gasped, looking mortified. “No, no! That’s not how you do it!” He shouted, flapping his arms. “Those aren’t the words!”

Frank and Gerard exchanged a look, before Gerard shrugged, turning back to the kids. “Can I help you?” He asked as kindly as he could muster, but neither one seemed to take notice of him.

“It’s  _ trick  _ or  _ treat _ !” The boy informed her knowingly, and she rolled her eyes. “You are the  _ bossiest _ .” The girl complained, raising an arm to push him, but then considering otherwise and putting it down.

“What are  _ you? _ ” She asked, pointing at Frank. “I’m a fairy.”

“I’m a jail-guy!” The boy declared, looking at the two of them. “You aren’t even scary! Your costumes are lame!”

“We’re going as mental hospital patients.” Gerard told him casually, and Frank snorted.

The girl studied them. “You don’t  _ look  _ like crazy people.”

“Well, we are,” Frank shot, and Gerard explained, “Not all sick people are crazy. And not all crazy people look sick.”

“Poetic,” Frank scoffed, but the kid’s mother had just called them back and they turned to go, waving at Frank and Gerard as they did so. “Have a fun time trick or treating!” The girl called.

“We’re not going . . .” Frank began, but trailed off as the girl ran away. “Trick or treating.” He finished dully. 

“We could,” Gerard suggested quietly, and Frank looked up at him, opening his mouth for what Gerard assumed was a scornful response, but changed his mind.

“I don’t see why not.” Frank said finally, to Gerard’s great surprise. “For real?” He asked hesitantly. “Because um, I was kind of joking.” Gerard hadn’t been joking, but he also hadn’t expected Frank to say yes to something so – Gerard paused, looking for the right word. Triggering? Upsetting?

Out of his element, was what his brain decided on. 

And so they went from house to house in the small homes by the city, gaining quite a few weird looks, but even more candy. After about an hour they gave up, deciding to get back on the bus. 

“I really don’t know what we’re going to do with all this.” Frank said once they were seated, looking down at his sweatshirt pockets filled with candy. The boy looked the most exhausted, but also the most energetic Gerard had ever seen him in his life.

“We could give it to other patients,” Gerard said, and Frank half-smiled. “Yeah,” He agreed, shivering slightly. The sun had set a while ago, and Gerard refused to think how much trouble he’d be in with the hospital once he got back.

“Are you cold  _ again? _ ” Gerard asked, teasingly, and Frank punched his shoulder. “Shut up,” He murmured, before adding, “Yes. Really cold.”

Gerard would admit: he was a little cold himself. After all, it was fall, and the middle of the night. “I already gave you my jacket,” He said, unsure, and Frank frowned. “Okay, maybe you can sit like,  _ two inches  _ closer to me,” Frank sighed, and Gerard laughed, scooting closer so their legs touched. “Warmer?” He asked, and Frank rolled his eyes. “No. I’m always fucking freezing.”

“Maybe you should gain weight then,” Gerard said lightly.

“Maybe you should die.” Frank replied, and Gerard snorted. “Alright, sorry.”

Frank sighed, turning away from Gerard. “Sorry,” He muttered back after a few moments, still looking out the window at the night city. “It’s just harder than it looks.”

“I understand,” Gerard nodded, and Frank shook his head. “No, you don’t. Not at all.”

Gerard paused, before asking, “Do you think you’ll ever recover?”

Frank was silent then. He pulled his knees up to his chest, and looked down at his nails sullenly. “I don’t know,” He said at last. 

“That’s okay,” Gerard replied, and Frank looked slightly surprised. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said. “At least you’re being honest. It’s better you admit to yourself that you’re still working on this disorder, rather than lie your whole life and pretend like you’re never going to relapse.”

A pause. “I’ve been lying to myself about something else,” Frank admitted softly, and Gerard met his eyes.

“What?” 

The bus was almost silent now as the last person got off, and they were the only two left. The engine droned on meticulously, and the seats rattled as they drove. Gerard was pretty sure the beating of his heart was the loudest thing here, as even his breathing seemed to have stopped.

“Nothing,” Frank said, looking away, before suddenly leaning forward and pressing his lips to Gerard’s.

_ What the fuck. _

It only lasted a second, but Gerard’s brain seemed to have completed de-railed itself within that one moment.

_ Holy shit, he did it.  _ Gerard’s mind went in circles, repeating itself over and over.  _ He kissed me. What does this mean?  _

‘What does this mean’ seemed to circulate in his thoughts as he pushed his hair away from his face, watching Frank as he sat back in his chair. The boy was sitting there wordlessly, looking rather pleased with himself. Gerard felt as if all the breath had been knocked from his body, because  _ what the fuck _ .

“So, that was a thing,” Gerard said awkwardly, and Frank smiled down to himself. “Mhm,” He agreed quietly. “It was.”

\---

Mikey was sad.

The type of sad that tore you up inside, tugging and tugging until it ripped. Mikey felt as if his heart was climbing up his throat, and his entire head was numb.

He was walking, too. Walking with purpose, down an empty street. Glancing at his watch, it read  _ 2:34 am _ . The streetlights glowed a faint yellow above his head, and the pale light reflected down on Mikey.

Misery was pulling hard at him now, and as he turned down yet another unfamiliar road, he soon realized he was dreaming,  _ again _ .

Mikey wasn’t sure why he couldn’t have normal dreams, and he was pretty sure this one wasn’t going to have anything to do with Gerard. 

His feet moved on their own, pulling Mikey away from the alleyway of buildings toward a busy highway. Why was it so busy at two am? Who had to speed down the road at 70-miles per hour in the middle of the night?

But as he came closer to the road, time seemed to slow down. A sinking feeling filled Mikey’s chest as he realized what he was about to do, and he tried desperately to make it stop. This wasn’t a good dream - he didn’t want this!

Mikey willed his feet to stop walking, but they refused, taking him to an overlook above the roaring cars. He was holding something in his hand. Something cold, and hard.

It was a gun.

Mikey’s veins ran cold like ice, and he trembled without breaking his stride. He was going to die, oh my God.

_ Please, stop. Please, please, stop.  _

Mikey climbed up, leaning over the edge. Blood was roaring in his ears, and his stomach was doing flips. 

“Mikey! Mikey, wake up.”

He was going to do it. He was going to let go.

“ _ Mikey _ .”

Mikey awoke to find Dean hovering over the side of his bed. Sitting up slowly, he rubbed his eyes. The papers on his chest fell to the floor, and he realized he must have fallen asleep reading them last night. “Hm?” Mikey said sleepily, yawning. Light was barely filtering through the curtains of his window, and he figured it must be awfully early in the morning. Looking around the room, he found that it was empty (minus him and Dean), and that Bob was nowhere to be found.

“What’s going on?” Mikey stretched. “Where’s Bob?”

“In the ER,” Dean said worriedly, and Mikey blinked his eyes open, still not fully awake. His shoulders were still tense from the dream, and he rolled them loose. “What?”

“Bob came back to the hospital because he’d been feeling bad, but he wasn’t getting evaluated until tomorrow.” Dean explained. “But he got sick last night. It was a seizure or something.”

“Is he okay?” Mikey sat up straight, startled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said. “Don’t worry. I talked to him before waking you, but he made me leave when they needed to put on his EKG. You know how Bob is with those things.”

“What’s an EKG?” Mikey asked, and Dean giggled. “Oh. It’s something they do when they think you’re going to die or something. It’s like a ton of little stickers.”

“Is Bob going to die?” Mikey was nervous now, and climbed out of bed. Bob had lent him a pair of clothes last night after they’d finished talking, but they felt awkward on Mikey. He’d promised to take Mikey shopping soon (mainly because he pitied Mikey and his hospital gown, although Mikey didn’t mind the gown or scrub pants), but Mikey thought that was unimportant now.

“No,” Dean replied, right as Lance walked in, his expression clouded. “Bad news,” He announced, and Dean’s face fell. “Oh no.”

“They’re taking Bob’s leg.”

A long moment of silence filled the room, before Mikey asked, “Why?”

“His cancer’s back.” Lance responded. “It’s the same leg as last time, but Bob said his doctor was worried it would spread to the muscle.”

“When’s it happening?” Dean asked quietly, and Lance sighed. “Tomorrow.”

“ _ Tomorrow? _ ” Dean was incredulous, his jaw dropped in shock. “Why the Hell would they do that?”

Lance shrugged. “I don’t know. Bob said it had something to do with his meds causing seizures, but you’d have to talk to him.”

“They never operate next day!” Dean said in disbelief, and Mikey asked, “Can we see Bob?”

Lance shrugged again. “Ask a nurse. I don’t see why not.”

As if on cue, a nurse walked in for morning tasks. “Good morning!” She said, pulling the vitals machine behind her. “Boy, there are a lot of you here today, aren’t there?”

“I’m about to leave,” Lance got up, signaling to Dean to follow.

“Making friends, I see.” The nurse smiled at him as Mikey laid back down, his face expressionless. She ran through his schedule while she did vitals, and once she was done, Mikey asked, “Do you know if I can visit Bob?”

“Bob who?” The nurse asked kindly, and Mikey paused, racking his brain. “Bryar?” He tried. “He’s my roommate, but he went to the ER.”

“Ah,” The nurse smiled. “Kid’s been here awhile, hasn’t he? Third shift mentioned him. I think he’s in ICU, so second floor.”

And so Mikey went down, through the elevator, and to the second floor, where he was then directed by another nurse on where Bob might be. His legs were feeling more obedient now then they had in his dream, and after a few wrong rooms, Mikey finally opened the door to Bob’s. 

The blonde boy was sitting on the hospital bed, propped up with pillows, on his phone. He glanced up as Mikey entered, his face brightening with a weak smile. “Mikey!”

“Bob,” Mikey said. “Are you okay?”

“Last time I checked?” Bob furrowed his brow. “Uhh, no.”

The room was filled with the rhythmic beeps of the monitor’s by Bob’s bed, and Mikey went to sit on a chair. “Lance told me what happened.”

“I bet you he didn’t.” Bob said back, suddenly tired. He put his phone down, and Mikey looked up, interested. “I know about your leg.”

“Did you know I was supposed to have it amputated last year?” Bob asked, and Mikey shook his head. “Lance didn’t tell me that.”

“I was supposed to be cancer-free.” Bob said waspishly. “But someone – God or not – had another plan.”

“I’m sorry.” Mikey didn’t know what else to say.

Bob shrugged. “It won’t be that bad.” He said, putting his phone on the bedside table. Mikey noticed a bouquet of flowers there. Had someone else visited Bob?

“Yes, it will.” Mikey said, and Bob sighed. “Yeah, man.” He took a deep breath. “But it could always be worse.”

“You could get hit by a car,” Mikey offered. “And wake up in a hospital, with amnesia.”

Bob laughed. “I could,” He agreed, before asking. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting memories back? I saw in your file last night, they thought you’d regain some with time.”

“I might be.” Mikey nodded. “But they’re more dreams than memories.”

“Really?” Bob asked. “Do you have them every night?”

“Just about.” Mikey said. “I was having one when Dean woke me up.” Mikey fiddled with his feet, tapping them awkwardly. “What was it about?” Bob looked curious. “Gerard?”

Mikey shook his head. “For once, no.” A pause. “I think I was trying to kill myself.”

Bob blinked. “Well, that’s not good. Are you sure it wasn’t just a normal dream?”

“Positive.” Mikey agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. “But the worst part is, I don’t know why I would do it. What could have happened that would make me resort to  _ that _ ?”

Bob gave Mikey a sympathetic look. “I don’t know. But we’ll find out.” He laughed drily. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Do you know when you’re coming back upstairs?” Mikey asked, and Bob nodded. “Later today.” He answered. ‘They already ran labs, nothing’s wrong. Well, nothing we didn’t know about.”

“That’s good, I guess.” Mikey said, and Bob spoke up. “Hey, you don’t have a stutter anymore. That’s progress.”

“It comes back sometimes.” Mikey said. “But at lease I’m not in a coma.”

Bob barked a laugh. “ _ There  _ you go! Always looking on the bright side.”

There was a long silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Mikey looked down at his feet, studying the blue sneakers. Whose were they? His physical therapist had given them to him (along with a painfully pitying look when Mikey said he didn’t have shoes). He had the hospital issued pair, of course, but white slippers weren’t exactly his article of choice. What was, though? Did Mikey have a style? He looked at his shirt.

Bob’s old clothes, apparently. 

“Bob?” Mikey said suddenly, and Bob replied, “Yeah?”

“What does blue mean?” Mikey said, tilting his head.

“What?” Bob asked, and Mikey bit his lip. “A blue wristband - the floor Gerard’s on. What does it mean? You said it was something bad, but then Dean walked in.”

Bob paused, thinking for a long moment. “Do you know what psych is, Mikey?”

“No.” Mikey said uncertainly. Did he want to know? Was psych where Gerard was?

“Remember the day I left, there was that boy running around? With the neon shoes?” Bob asked, and Mikey shook his head quickly. “That wasn’t Gerard.” He insisted. “I know what Gerard looks like.”

“No, no, I know,” Bob cut in. “But the boy was kind of . . .  _ off _ , wasn’t he?”

Mikey nodded slowly. “And security tackled him. He was crazy.”

“Yeah,” Bob agreed. “That’s ‘cause he’s from psych. Catch my drift?”

“You mean Gerard’s like  _ that _ ?” Mikey whispered. “He’s  _ crazy? _ ”

“Noo,” Bob said slowly, carefully. “But, uh, maybe?” Realizing that was the wrong thing to say, Bob corrected himself. “We don’t know for sure, though.”

Before Mikey could respond, a nurse walked by. “Bob?” She asked, and he raised his hand. “That’s me.”

She smiled. “You’re going back to your old room. Excited?”

“Yeah,” Bob said, leaning over to Mikey. “Are you going to be okay?” He asked quietly, and Mikey looked up, blinking.

“Are  _ you _ ?”

Bob shrugged. “I have to be, don’t I?”

“Then I guess I have to be, too.” Mikey said, and Bob smiled.

✰✰✰

“Mikey!” Dr. Witt called, and Mikey glanced up, startled. “Hey,”

“How are you feeling today?” He asked Mikey, who shrugged. “I’m alright.” He’d gone back to his room with the nurse, but Bob had been pulled to talk with his doctor, and Mikey had been alone since.

“Any exciting news?” Dr. Witt asked, and Mikey thought he was acting rather oblivious today. “Any questions?”

“Do you know if my mom’s coming back?” Mikey asked, and Dr. Witt’s smile flickered. “Well, Mikey, I can’t tell you that. I can ask her though, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please.” Mikey nodded, and Dr. Witt patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll go do that now,” He said, and left.

Donna came later that day, knocking softly on Mikey’s open door.

“Come in,” Mikey said quietly, and she did. “Hey,” Donna said, and Mikey tried to smile back. “Hi.”

“I like your clothes,” Donna said, painfully reminding Mikey of the fact she’d never brought him any. “They’re my roommates,” Mikey told her. “I don’t have any of my own.”

“Oh,” Donna said, and Mikey nodded awkwardly.

“I’m sorry about last time,” Donna said quickly, the words rushing out. “I just – it’s so hard, Mikey. But I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“That’s okay,” Mikey said automatically.

“It’s not.” Donna frowned, and Mikey said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Donna replied, sitting on a chair. Mikey sighed, biting his lip. “It’s about Gerard.”

Donna stiffened, but said nothing.

“Can you tell me about him?” Mikey asked cautiously. “What’s he like? How old is he?”  _ Is he crazy? _

Donna drew in a long breath, wringing her hands in her lap. “Well,” She started, looking from the ceiling, to Mikey, then to the wall. “He’d be seventeen now, I think.”

_ He’d be seventeen?  _ “You’re talking about him like he’s dead,” Mikey pointed out, and she laughed nervously. “Gerard’s not dead.” She assured him, and Mikey tilted his head. “Is he in high school? Was I in high school?”

“Maybe?” Donna said, unsure. “You moved into my house three weeks before your accident. As for Gerard, I uh - I don’t know. Gerard only lived with me until he was two.”

“What?” Mikey asked, confused. “Am I adopted?”

“Not exactly.” Donna said. “I’m your mom – whether you like it or not.” A laugh. “But I wasn’t exactly ready for kids yet, okay? So when you were born I gave you two away.”

“The letter,” Mikey said suddenly, remembering the document he’d read with Bob. “The one about Gerard and I – to someone named Lottman? What was that?”

“What?” Donna asked, furrowing her brow. “What are you talking about – How do you know that name?”

“You were writing not to separate Gerard and I.” Mikey strained to remember. “Someone named Donald?”

Donna stiffened at the name. “Jesus,” She breathed. “That must have been, what, fifteen years ago? How’d you find that?”

“I read it.” Mikey shrugged. “Is Gerard here?” He asked, already knowing the answer. “Can I talk to him?”

“I – I don’t see why not.” Donna said hesitantly. “I’d have to talk to some people first, though.”

“Okay,” Mikey said, filling with hope. He was going to do it. He was going to meet Gerard.

  
  


**\---**

“Frank, we have some important news.” 

Frank sighed, resting his chin on his hands. He’d been pulled from his morning DBT to talk with some member from his team. He couldn’t quite remember her name – Allie? Ashley? Who cared, they were all the same. “Hit me.”

Frank had come back with Gerard late last night. Sure, they’d got yelled at, but it had been too fun to care. Obviously they had to get checked after pass to make sure they weren’t sneaking anything dangerous in, but Gerard’s nurse turned a blind eye at his pockets full of candy, and they’d given them out before third shift had arrived.

And maybe things had been a  _ little _ awkward, but Frank was positive that he regretting nothing, and wouldn’t take that kiss back for the world.

He had  _ kissed  _ Gerard. And Gerard has kissed back.

So much for being straight.

“I just want you to know that this was out of our control, and if we could change it, we would have.” Ashley started apologetically, and Frank frowned, dread beginning to pit in his chest. “What happened?” He asked, and she looked at him sympathetically.

“Your insurance is pulling you.” She told him, and Frank’s stomach dropped. “What?” He asked, shocked. Frank couldn’t tell what he was feeling, and he sat up, eyes wide. “That’s impossible; we’re military!”

“Due to regulations starting in the New Year, in two months our facility will no longer accept your coverage.” She told him slowly. Frank felt as if he were being down-spoken, and stiffened defensively. “You’ll be leaving on Thursday.”

“That’s in three days!” Frank shouted. “You seriously think I’ll be ready by then?”

“You’ve almost reached a dischargeable weight.” Ashley shook her head. “But Frank, like I said, it’s not within my control. We’ve been keeping you in inpatient as long as we could, but without insurance coverage, we can’t keep you any longer. You’ll continue your treatment at whichever hospital your insurance assigns.”

“Here?” Frank asked, and she frowned. “No, in Kentucky.”

“Kentucky?” Frank repeated, and she nodded. “That’s what you’re covered for, Frank. I’m sorry.”

Frank was speechless. In less than five minutes, his entire life was being turned around.

✰✰✰

“Time’s started, Frank.” The TA reminded him kindly at the lunch table. For once, Frank didn’t have a smart reply. “Sorry,” He mumbled back instead, covering his eyes with his hands as he leaned on his elbows. His food lay untouched on his plate, and he scowled at it, shivering slightly. After trying to hide food in a sleeve, Frank wasn’t allowed to have his sweatshirt in the cafeteria, which resulted in him not only struggling with the meal, but also dealing with the fact that it was  _ so goddamn fucking COLD _ . 

Frank couldn’t do this right now. His meal - along with the news he was stepping down - was too much. Frank felt sick – no, worse than sick. He was going home.  _ In three days. _

“Frank?” The TA asked quietly, with concern. “Is today’s meal particularly challenging? There are still twelve minutes left – if you’d like, I can see if your therapist’s available.”

“I don’t need a meal coach,” Frank snapped, before softening his tone. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” The TA commented, and Frank shot them a glare, standing up loudly. “Well, I  _ am _ ,” He spat, turning and walking out the door.

_ Way to go, Frank. That was real convincing. _

Including morning snack, this was his second uncompleted meal. Frank knew if afternoon snack held up the same way, he’d most likely have the tube back in before dinner. Could they still kick Frank out if he had the tube?  _ Probably _ . It wasn’t like Frank was stepping down or discharging - he was just transferring.

“Frank!” 

Frank looked up to see Lindsey and her therapist walking down the hall, toward him. “What’s up?” She asked, before seeing his face. “Hey, you okay?”

“Are you going to the common room, Lindsey?” Her therapist asked as they approached a turn, and Lindsey shook her head. “Can Frank and I go in the library?”

The therapist nodded, unlocking the door. “Arms above the seat, though, Lindsey. You’re still on sharps.”

Lindsey stuck her tongue out at his back, waiting until the door had closed to speak. The library had glass walls and a clear door, so besides muffling their conversation, it didn’t provide any privacy. There were a small gathering of couches in the center where Frank and Lindsey sat, along with a table and a few bookshelves.

“So,” Lindsey grinned, propping her chin up on her hands. “How did it go?”

“What? How did what go?” Frank asked, confused, and Lindsey snorted. “Your  _ pass _ !” She laughed. “How did your pass go? Where’d you go? What did you do?”

“Oh!” Frank said, startled. With the news this morning, he’d barely had a chance to think about it. “It was fine.”

“Mm,” Lindsey nodded. “I’d challenge you to be any more vague than that, but it’s impossible.”

“I’m  _ sorry _ ,” Frank rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Maybe it’s just none of your business.”

“Ah!” Lindsey sat up, pointing at him. “That sounds guilty! What’d you do? God forbid, hold hands?”

“What?” Frank snapped, scrunching his nose. “No, why would we have done that?” Was he being that obvious? How did Lindsey know something had happened? “What makes you ask?”

“You were wearing his jacket last night.” Lindsey noted, and Frank scowled. “I was cold. It wasn’t like that.”

“Sure,” Lindsey said, not believing him at all. “Was it cute? Did you kiss?”

“No!” Frank said, far to quickly. Lindsey gasped. “You  _ did! _ ” She squealed, and Frank threw a pillow at her. “Shut up!”

Lindsey almost fell over laughing, and Frank scoffed. It really wasn’t that funny.

“Oh my fucking God,” Lindsey giggled, hands covering her face. “And you were all like, ‘Jesus, Lindsey, I’m not gay.’”

“It doesn’t matter,” Frank said, trying to make her be quiet. “I’m leaving on Thursday, anyway.”

“You’re  _ what _ ?” Lindsey’s laughter trailed off, and she wiped her eyes, as if she’d misheard him. 

“Leaving.” Frank repeated, and this time Lindsey shut up for real. “Frank, I – I,” Lindsey stammered. “I’m happy for you, I guess.” She looked him up and down, and Frank knew exactly what she was thinking.

“I’m transferring, not discharging.” He clarified, and understanding flashed in Lindsey’s face. “Oh,” she breathed. “Yeah, that uh – That would make more sense.”

“I still look pretty bad, huh?” Frank asked, and Lindsey looked at him earnestly. “I wouldn’t know,” She answered honestly, and he supposed that was the best thing anyone could have said at that point.

“But I know  _ someone _ who thinks you look hot as fuck.” Lindsey smothered a giggle with her hand. “And his name starts with a G.”

“Seriously, shut the Hell up. It’s not funny.” Frank shot, but he smiled as Lindsey fell into another fit of laughter. “It’s hilarious,” She protested.

Frank opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as a nurse opened the door, poking her head inside. “Frank?” She asked.

“Labs?” He guessed standing, and she shook her head. “Sorry, pal.”

Sorry? For no labs? That was unusual.

Frank’s stomach dropped as he realized what she meant. “Oh,” He said, and she half-smiled at him. “Yep. It’ll be quick, I promise.”

“That sounds like something a serial killer would say.” Lindsey cut in helpfully, and Frank snorted. “Thanks, Lindsey. But the tube hasn’t killed me, yet.”

“It’s here to keep you alive!” The nurse beamed, and Frank rolled his eyes internally. “Yay,” Frank said flatly as he followed her out.

“I guess you’re leaving us on Thursday, hm?” The nurse asked as they walked down the hall. Her curly hair was pulled back in a bun so tight Frank thought it must hurt.

“I guess so.” He shrugged, before asking. “Do you know when I’ll get this thing out?”

“That’s up to you!” The nurse said, far to cheerily for Frank’s liking, because it really  _ wasn’t  _ up to him. “Will I have to fly home with it in?”

“Fly?” The nurse asked. “Where are you from?”

“Here,” Frank explained. “But my family just moved to Kentucky.”

“Ooh,” The nurse exclaimed. “That’s cool!” She paused. “But if it’s in three days, I think you’ll have to keep it in, buddy.”

Yikes. That would be interesting. Frank knew how much his parents hated seeing him with the tube in (it was part of the reason they never visited), and half of him was thrilled that they would be forced to endure it. The other half was dreading be started at in the airport. “Okay,” He nodded. “That’s fine.”

✰✰✰

“You got it  _ back _ in?”

Frank couldn’t help but hear the disappointment in Gerard’s tone as the boy saw him, mouth opening in surprise.

“Yeah,” Frank shrugged, tucking the line behind his ear to hide it. “But it’s really not a big deal.”

Gerard’s face showed that he seemed to think otherwise. “Was it my fault?” He asked timidly. “Did I do something wrong last night?”

“Jesus, no!” Frank blinked in surprise. “Why would you ask that?” Why did Gerard think it was his fault?

“I just – I don’t know,” Gerard admitted. They were in the common room, waiting to be called for dinner. The patients who had school were in it right now, but Frank’s parents had allowed him to take a gap year. He wasn’t sure why Gerard wasn’t in it, though. Gerard could have graduated already, but Frank was doubtful.

“Well, you had nothing to do with it, okay?” Frank said, looking him in the eye. “For real. Don’t put that kind of pressure on yourself, alright?”

“Frank, I-” Gerard stopped abruptly, looking around the room. It was fairly populated, and their soft words would be easily drowned in the chatter coming from the kids on the X-Box. “Did the – did last night mean anything to you?”

“What?” Frank asked, confused. “The pass?” He paused. “It was unexpected, sure. But no, I liked it a lot.” Suddenly the memory of the kiss rushed in, and he felt embarrassment prickle at the back of his neck. “Oh, shit, you meant . . .”

“Yeah,” Gerard laughed awkwardly. “Did kissing mean anything to you? Or do you like; do that with a lot of people? Because I’m definitely cool with it either way, I was just kind of curious, you know.” His words were fast and rushed, and Frank snorted.

“Fuck you, of course it meant something.” Frank shoved Gerard lightly. “After all, you were the one who suggested becoming a mouth-slut.”

Gerard laughed again, this time for real. “You took my advice then, huh? Went around kissing people?”

“Hm, I guess so,” Frank nodded, fighting down a smile as he hid his mouth with his sleeve.

“So, have you figured it out yet?” Gerard asked, reminding Frank of the reason Gerard had suggested being a ‘mouth-slut’ in the first place. “Think you’re gay?”

“I – rgh,” Frank’s worlds dissolved into a mutter as he felt his cheeks go hot. He didn’t want to answer that question right now, he really didn’t.

“How about this,” Gerard proposed, changing his words. “You could be bi or something, but that could take ages to figure out. You’re - what, sixteen? You’ve got plenty of time.” Gerard paused. “But here’s an easier question,”

“Is it going to take ‘ages’ for me to figure out, too?” Frank asked. “Because last time I checked, my sexuality didn’t concern you.”

“But this one does!” Gerard teased. “Maybe you’re not gay, but you don’t have to tell me about that.”

“Then what do you  _ want  _ me to tell you?” Frank scoffed, and Gerard poked him. “Tell me, Frank, do you like me?”

Frank stopped then; his body frozen, his face puzzled. Did he like Gerard? Did he really?

_ Yes. _

The word was plain and clear in his mind, and Frank smiled.

“Of course I do.”

“Good,” Gerard said happily. “Because I love you.”

**\---**

Gerard was frozen in place, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes were locked on his therapist's, and his hands were shaking so badly that he clamped them into fists in a weak attempt to steady them.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go. This was all wrong.

It’s not as if he hadn’t meant to find it – he definitely did – it’s just not what he’d expected in the slightest.

After dinner last night, Gerard and Frank had gone back to their room, still quite awkward. (But positively less awkward than before Gerard had said he loved Frank). They had sat on Gerard’s bed, and he’d put an arm over Frank lightly. He’d been feeling rather sick the entire evening, but decided not to tell Frank, as it was probably nothing.

“What’s that for?” Frank asked, glancing up at Gerard.

Gerard shrugged, hugging him closer. “Just incase you were cold.” He said, and Frank scoffed, amused. “Mmkay.”

“Are you okay with it?” Gerard asked, and Frank nodded, moving closer in a very un-Frank-like way. “Yeah,” He nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Really?” Gerard smiled slightly, moving forward until he could feel Frank’s breath on his nose. Their faces were painfully close not to be touching, and Frank’s lashes flitted downward. Suddenly, ice-cold nausea seemed to wash through him, and air seemed to catch in his throat. Gerard could hear the blood in his ears, and his vision was swimming at the edges.

“Really.” Frank agreed, closing the gap between them, and that was the last thing Gerard could remember before a black wave crashed over him, and the world went dark.

✰✰✰

He awoke in his bed.

The light outside his window was bright with daylight, and Gerard blinked his eyes open slowly, trying to push away the sharp pain that seared in his head. He tried to sit up, but the pounding in his temples pushed him back into the bed.

“That’s no fun, isn’t it?” A voice asked. “Take this, they’ll help a little.” Someone pushed a few tablets of some sort into Gerard’s palm, and he swallowed them quickly. As he swallowed, he noticed the thick plastic tube around his nose. Gerard’s first thought was of Frank’s feeding tube, but he immediately thought better of it. Was he on an oxygen machine? This didn’t feel like one, but then again, Gerard wouldn’t know.

“Long night, wasn’t it, Gerard?” The nurse beside him asked, and Gerard shook his head drowsily. “I don’t remember any of it.” A dull ache crept through him, and Gerard glanced down to see a sickeningly bloody IV bag leading into his arm. What the fuck was that?

“Yes, that’s because you were unconscious.” The nurse said matter-of-factly, his green scrubs seeming blindingly bright to Gerard. “It was a long night for us, though. I’ve been watching you since nine this morning.”

The nurse slipped the pressure cuff over Gerard’s arm, taking his vitals as the boy lay there. After they were done, he made a low grunt of displeasure. “You’re not looking too hot, Gerard.” He commented. “We’ll check again later.”

His head was throbbing with pain, and Gerard was aching for a drink to dull it. They were so close - within arm’s reach - but he knew he’d have to wait. It had been at least a week since his last one, but if he got caught now it may as well have been his last.

A woman suddenly walked in the door, her curly black hair almost brushing the top of the doorframe. “Gerard!” She exclaimed as she saw him, walking over. “I’m Dr. Bascule. I don’t think we’ve met in quite awhile; I’m your general physician. We see each other about once a year, but I’m usually on a different floor, with my other patients.”

“What happened?” Gerard asked. His vision was clearing slowly, but he still didn’t sit up. The cotton balls in his brain seemed to be dissolving, but his stomach was still tying itself in knots.

“We’re not entirely sure, Gerard.” Dr. Bascule answered. “We sent some blood work off for testing, and we’ll know when it gets back. Until then, we’re just going to work on keeping you alive.” She laughed a little, but Gerard didn’t see what was funny.

“Do you have any ideas?” He asked, and she nodded. “Well, I’m not making a diagnosis until I’m one-hundred percent positive, but I’m fairly certain its something called cerebral edema. The cure can be fairly simple, so it’s nothing to stress over. But if you have any dizziness or headaches within the next few days, let someone know.”

“I have a headache right now,” Gerard groaned, and Dr. Bascule said, “That was a given. You’ll be started on painkillers shortly. In the meantime, I’d recommend getting some food in you, before you feel sick again.”

“Do you know where this came from?” Gerard asked. “Like, how did I get this thing?”

“Cerebral edema commonly stems from acute liver failure.” Dr. Bascule explained. “In your case, I think it means your liver is just about at the end of its rope.”

“Didn’t we already know that?” Gerard frowned. “Isn’t that why I take all those pills in the morning?”

“Not quite,” Dr. Bascule said. “Things have changed just a bit. If you don’t find a transplant soon, you could die, Gerard.”

“Soon?” Gerard asked. “How soon?”

Dr. Bascule seemed to war with herself for a moment, her hands fidgeting, before giving in. “I’d give it about two days.”

“What?” Gerard cried, sitting up quickly. The pain in his head seemed to turn to a blade, and he yelped, lying back down. “I’m going to die?” He asked, more quietly. “Is that why I have this thing on my nose?”

“No, Gerard, you are not.” She said firmly. “And that ‘thing on your nose’ is called a CPAP. It’s to keep the blood out of your lungs.”

“Blood?” Gerard stammered. “What the actual fuck is going on?”

“You lost significant blood to internal bleeding,” Dr. Bascule explained. “But we have you on a blood transfusion at the moment. Everything will be okay, Gerard. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” Gerard said, feeling sick to his stomach. “Can you bring my roommate down here?”

“Your roommate?” Dr. Bascule asked curiously, and Gerard nodded. “Yeah,” He said, adding, “Please.”

“I can try and find him for you.” The nurse next to Gerard offered, when Dr. Bascule looked to them helplessly. “I’ll radio someone.”

“Thanks,” Gerard mumbled, his head growing heavy. “I’m tired.”

“That’s common, don’t worry.” Dr. Bascule assured him. “Have a nice nap, and we’ll try and have your roommate here as soon as we can.”

Gerard didn’t hear her finish, as a low whirring filled his ears, and he fell into a restless sleep.

✰✰✰

When Gerard awoke for the second time that day, Dr. J was next to him, looking far too worried for Gerard’s liking. 

“Dr. J?” Gerard murmured groggily, the pain meds still wearing him down. 

“Gerard!” Dr. J grimaced. “How was your sleep?”

“Not great,” Gerard admitted honestly. “Did you hear that I was going to die?”

Dr. J barked a laugh. “Oh, Gerard. Yes, I heard something like that.” He paused, shifting the laptop in his hold from one hand to another. 

“What’s that for?” Gerard asked, nodding toward the computer, and Dr. J seemed to tense a bit. “I, uh, I think there’s something you should know, Gerard.”

“What is it?” Gerard asked. “Am I going to meet my mother? Or my possibly-but-apparently-not-dead brother?”

“No.” Dr. J said slowly. “You’re going to meet your father.” He paused. “Or rather, you already have.”

“What are you talking about?” Gerard rubbed his eyes, convinced the medication was making him hear things. “I mean, yeah, I knew him as a baby and all that. I just don’t think we got along  _ great _ , and maybe I shouldn’t meet him right now? Like, out of all the people I want to meet before I die, can he  _ not  _ be one of them?” Gerard proposed. “Actually, Frank’s a pretty important one. Can he come down here, please?”

“Gerard,” Dr. J interrupted. “The man you’re referring to was not your father.”

“He wasn’t?” Gerard said, confused. “Then why was I with him? He obviously didn’t like children with the way he treated me.”

“I know, and I am so, so sorry.” Dr. J said wholeheartedly. “If Donna and I had known we never would have put you with that couple, we were just in  _ such  _ an incredibly tight spot, Gerard. You don’t understand – ”

“Wait,” Gerard cut in. “‘Donna and I?’ What does that mean? You knew me as a baby?”

“Gerard,” Dr. J said slowly, his face forming into a weak smile. “I’m your father.”

**\---**

“Great job today, Mikey!”

Mikey nodded, a small smile growing on his face. “Thanks,”

“You’ve come pretty far, you know that?” His physical therapist asked. Mikey had only met with this specific woman two or three times, but he liked her enthusiastic and upbeat personality. It could be a bit overwhelming at time, but Mikey was getting accustomed to it. Plus, she was the only one of his trainers that called him Mikey, rather than Michael. Not that Mikey had a preference.

“Have I?” He asked sheepishly, and she grinned. “You could barely walk when we first met! And look at you now!” She exclaimed, her braids bouncing from shoulder to shoulder. “At this rate, you’ll be ready to go home in no time!”

“Do you really think so?” Mikey asked. He didn’t want to leave before he’d had a chance to meet Gerard. Or before Bob got his leg amputated.

The fact he wanted to stay caught Mikey off guard, but he supposed he should have expected it. What did he have to look forward to anyway? His dreams had been his only glance into the outside world, and those weren’t exactly something he wanted to experience again. Where would he even go? Donna’s house?

Where was home?

“Someone should be coming to take you back to your room –” She had begun to say, when suddenly Dean ran down the hall, sobbing.

Mikey sat up quickly, angling his head to look out the door. Was Dean all right? What was happening?

“What’s up with that kid?” She asked, and Mikey paused. “Would you mind if I followed him? He’s my friend.” Mikey felt odd calling Dean his friend, and as he said the word a small spark of pride welled in his chest. Dean was his friend, and he cared about him.

“Yeah, of course,” His physical therapist nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Mikey said softly, picking up his sweatshirt (or rather, Bob’s sweatshirt) and heading out after Dean. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint his location, all Mikey had to do was follow the crying sounds.

Anxiety began to claw at Mikey as he came closer to Dean, who had collapsed onto a bench outside an exam room. Something was very, very wrong here. A nurse was quickly making his way down the hall toward them, but Mikey had a few moments before they would arrive.

“Dean!” Mikey said, and Dean looked up, his face tear streaked. “Oh God, Mikey.” He whispered, and Mikey froze. “Dean, are you alright?” He asked. “What happened?”

“It’s Bob,” Dean shook his head, his voice cracking. “He’s dead.”

✰✰✰

Mikey wrapped his hands around his legs as he sat on the floor, knees hugged to his chest. His nails scraped down the sides of his arms as he rocked, not caring about the blood that welled up in them.

He was in the guest bathroom, the one that vising parents used, not patients. No one would find him here – not for a little while, at least.

_ NO, no, NO. _

This couldn’t be happening. This  _ wasn’t  _ happening. Bob couldn’t be dead.

Mikey shoved his mouth into the crook of his elbow, muffling the wail that escaped his throat. No, no, no! How was Bob dead? How could Bob die?

A seizure was what Dr. Witt had said. He’d said it softly, as he looked at Mikey with a tilted head, eyes full of concern.

“It was very peaceful. He wasn’t in any pain.” Dr. Witt had told him. “I know how hard this can be, Mikey, and I want you to know that if you would like to talk about it –”

“You don’t know  _ anything _ !” Mikey had screamed, fleeing the room. As he relived the moment now, guilt exploded inside his head. He shouldn’t have yelled like that, oh my God, what if Dr. Witt hated him now – 

He had to get out.

Forget Gerard, and forget Donna, Mikey needed to run away. He needed to get out of this hospital, once and for all. He needed to breathe.

And so, with a heart pounding in fear, Mikey slipped out of the bathroom, down the elevator, and through the hospital’s front door.

\---

“Where’s your ho of a boyfriend?” Lindsey asked, but Frank was far too stressed to correct on the fact that Gerard was neither a ho nor his boyfriend.

Well, at least he wasn’t Frank’s boyfriend. The ho part was up for grabs.

“I don’t know!” Frank said between grit teeth as he shoveled down another mouthful of food. He’d been moved out of his assisted eating group and down to the cafeteria with everyone else on his floor, and part of him wished Gerard was down here for the first meal they could have had together. The other half was freaking the fuck out over the fact that Gerard had literally  _ keeled over  _ last night, falling to the floor with a sickening thud.

After that, Frank had screamed, a nurse had rushed in, and he hadn’t seen Gerard since.

“Wait, really?” Lindsey asked. “But you two like, always know where each other are. In a very creepy way.”

“Yeah, well I don’t know where he is now!” Frank snapped. 

“What do you mean?” Lindsey asked, so Frank told her everything he could remember. 

“So, he’s just like,  _ gone _ ?” Lindsey whispered, and Frank snorted. “I have no fucking clue. But I doubt he’s gone.”

“What if something bad happened?” Lindsey asked, before rushing to add, “Not that anything like that would happen of course, I mean, he’s totally fine.”

“Jesus, thanks.” Frank rolled his eyes. “You’re probably right, though. Sure, he passed out and then got taken away and I haven’t heard from him since, but yeah, he’s definitely doing great.”

“ _ Okay _ , Mr. Salty.” Lindsey bumped her foot against his under the table with a mock-kick. “I was  _ trying  _ to be  _ helpful _ .”

“Maybe I should find him myself.” Frank said, and Lindsey sat up quickly. “Hey, wasn’t Gerard trying to find someone, too?”

“Yeah, his brother, Mikey.” Frank nodded. “Why?”

“Because, maybe he went to look for Mikey!” Lindsey said. “Maybe Gerard was actually swell and  _ not  _ dead at all, and was like, ‘Ooh, let’s go looking for my brother!’” 

Frank frowned. “That’s unlikely but highly possible at the same time.”

“Um, yes, because I’m a genius.” She giggled. “C’mon, let’s go look for him!”

“Sure, give me a sec.” Frank said, showing his empty plate to a passing TA, who signed him off.

“Hey, look at that!” Lindsey grinned. “You finished your food!”

“I did.” Frank replied. “I’m still on night feed, though.”

“I’m so used to your tube now, it’s weird.” Lindsey said. “And just you in general. You know, you really freaked me out the first time we met.”

“God, thanks.” Frank huffed, and Lindsey hugged him. “In the best way possible, Frank.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I look weird, I get it.” He shrugged her off, but Lindsey seemed unaffected.

“Not weird,” Lindsey corrected. “Just different. You kind of looked dead when you first came here. Like, your hands shook  _ all  _ the time. But you’re better now.”

Frank flinched. “I bet I looked far worse at my last hospital.”

“You came here from another hospital?” Lindsey asked, and Frank nodded. “Yeah, my heart rate was in the thirties, so I was put on bed-rest twenty-four seven at an emergency room. It sucked.”

“Could you like, get up to pee?” Lindsey asked, and Frank shoved her. “Christ, of course that’s what you’d wonder about.” He laughed. “But, sort of? In the beginning I had to pee in a pan, and then eventually I got the privilege of being wheeled to my toilet.”

Lindsey giggled. “Yikes, man, that’s horrible!”

“Not as horrible as daily labs,” Frank added. “And Acu-Checks seven times a day.”

“Seven?” Lindsey asked incredulously, and Frank nodded with a smile, almost forgetting his worries for a moment, before a staff member approached him.

“Frank Iero?” She asked, and Frank raised his brows. “That’s me.”

“Gerard Way wants to see you,” The staff member said, and Lindsey piped up, “Can I come too?”

“No, Mr. Way is only seeing relatives at this time.” The staff answered, and Frank scowled. “But I’m not –”

“Shut up!” Lindsey hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. “Ow, fuck!” Frank spat back, before realizing the woman had heard them.

“You’re not family?” She asked, and Lindsey shook her head. “No, no,  _ I’m _ not.” Lindsey said earnestly. “But Frank here is Gerard’s boyfriend, and if Gerard wanted to see anyone in this world, it’s him, trust me.”

Frank bit back a retort at Lindsey’s words, looking up at the woman and nodding reproachfully as he tried his best to contort his face into a smile. Boyfriend. Alright, fine.

The woman looked skeptical, but eventually shrugged. “Okay,” She said. “Let’s go.”

  
  


**\---**

"You little shit!"

Gerard awoke with a grunt as Frank threw his arms around him, knocking the breath out of his lungs. "Frank!" Gerard said happily. "You're here!"

"Fuck yeah, I am." Frank pulled away from Gerard, punching him on the arm. "Don't you fucking dare do that to me again. Worrying about you requires so much effort."

"I didn't mean to make you worry." Gerard said sympathetically, taking Frank's hands in his. Half because he was madly in love with Frank and wanted nothing more than to hold his hand, half because he didn't want Frank to punch him again.

"What the Hell happened?" Frank asked, motioning to Gerard and all the medical equipment attached to him. "Did you die or something? And for future reference, save your dying for another time, not when we're right about to kiss."

"Dually noted," Gerard grinned. "And I'm not sure what happened. Maybe I sort of died? I don't know, my liver just kind of decided it was done with me."

"Yeah, well I can see where it's coming from!" Frank retorted. "You're kind of difficult to be around."

"You love me," Gerard teased, and Frank shook his head wordlessly. "You're insane."

"I am." Gerard agreed. They were alone now, and although the door was wide open (they were in the emergency room, after all) there was a fair amount of privacy. "Well, I mean, I've got to be."

"What are you talking about?" Frank asked, but Gerard could tell he already knew. "Frank, I wouldn't be  _ here  _ for liver disease." He said plainly. "There's definitely something else wrong."

"Wait," Frank paused. "You mean you don't know why you're here?"

Gerard nodded. "Kind of crazy, right? Although, I've got a few suspicions."

Before Frank could ask what they were, Dr. J walked in. "Sorry to eavesdrop," He began, raising his hands in defense. "But whatever you think, it's wrong."

"What?" Frank jumped up, dropping Gerard's hands. "Where did you come from?" A pause. "Oh, you're Gerard's therapist, aren't you?"

"That's a lot of questions. Well, I just came back from a trip to the water cooler," Dr. J confessed, eyeing Frank's tube. Frank pretended not to notice. "And I suppose you could call me Gerard's therapist."

"You suppose?" Frank asked, confused, and Gerard laughed. "Frank, that's my dad."

"Your dad?" Frank's eyes widened, looking between the two. "Like, the parents that – um, you know," Frank's eyes darted down to the scar on Gerard's nose, and Gerard shook his head quickly. "No, no," He said. "Apparently, those weren't my biological parents."

"Then who the fuck were they?" Frank asked. "And why did you have to live with them?"

"I don't know," Gerard answered, and Dr. J spoke up. "That's just what I was about to answer. Frank, if you wouldn't mind stepping out for a moment –"

"Whatever you're going to tell me, Frank can hear it." Gerard cut in, and Dr. J frowned. "I don't know, Gerard. I was sort of planning on telling you some heavy information."

"And you can," Gerard encouraged. "With Frank here." He took up Frank's hands again, and Frank stiffened slightly.

_ Oh, right.  _ Gerard reminded himself.  _ He's not 'gay.' _

Dr. J seemed to see their hands immediately. "Oh," He said, exhaling sharply. "You're – you're, um. Yeah, you're like  _ that _ ."

"I am." Gerard agreed, smiling slightly. Frank shifted uncomfortably, but kept Gerard's hands in his.

"Okay, okay," Dr. J processed awkwardly. "I just – I didn't realize – I didn't see that coming."

"If you have a problem with him then you're free to go." Gerard said. "I mean, as my father. It's not like you've been in my life anyway, and if you think that I'm going to leave Frank for some man who ruined my life, you need to think again."

"Damn, preach." Frank whispered under his breath, just loud enough for Gerard to hear, making him laugh.

"Ruined your life?" Dr. J quoted. "How?"

"How do you think?" Gerard asked incredulously. "My entire life has been a train wreck! My home was abusive, I grew up in foster care, my brother died – well, 'died,' – and I didn't know you were my dad until I was seventeen! I live in a fucking mental hospital, for Christ's sake."

"You don't live in a –" Dr. J stopped himself, drawing in a long breath. "I'm sorry, Gerard." He said slowly, carefully. "And I will explain myself. Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?"

"Let me meet my brother?" Gerard proposed. "And my mother?"

Dr. J opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it. "Fine." He said. "I'll make sure you see them both by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Gerard asked. "That soon?"

"Gerard," Dr. J said quietly. "It has to be that soon. Unless you can find a transplant, in three days time you could be dead."

" _ Jesus! _ " Frank snapped at Dr. J. "Can you not?" He turned to Gerard, staring into his eyes. "You're not going to fucking die, understand? You're not allowed to. If you die, I will personally join a cult so I can revive you, and slaughter you."

"I don't think that's what cults are for, Frank." Gerard said humorously, and Frank huffed. "That was very  _ heartfelt  _ and  _ thoughtful  _ of me, and I'd appreciate if you could  _ not  _ make a joke out of it."

"Since when were death threats thoughtful?" Gerard asked, and Dr. J sighed. "Gerard, this is important," He pressed, and the two of them fell silent.

"Okay, I'm ready." Gerard said, and Dr. J closed the door (or rather, the curtain surrounding the door).

"Before I start, please remember that I never intended for anything to turn out the way it did." Dr. J struggled to spit the words out. "I thought Donna would want you, I really did, Gerard. And I suppose she did, in the end. But I –"

"Just start from the beginning." Gerard said calmly, and Dr. J nodded a few times. "Alright, alright," He murmured, clearing his throat. "After college, I went to work for a company called Hogan Collaborative. It studied psychological trauma, especially in adolescents. It was meant as a way to help those who had stress disorders, but in order to find solutions, we had to have a study group."

"Most of our kids were teenagers, but after five years or so of being in the practice, I began to realize that the adolescent brain was entirely different than the infant one when it came to mental scarring. I wanted to try it on younger kids, but everyone told me I was insane. The company would undoubtedly get sued to oblivion." Dr. J paused, shaking his head. "But then I met Donna. She was interning, and was just as intrigued by the study as I."

"So you had me." Gerard finished, and Dr. J gave a faltering smile. "Yes," He started. "The plan wasn't to keep you. We were going to run the study, and then give you a family that would be paid nicely to keep your origins a secret."

"You sold me off?" Gerard snorted, and Dr. J looked slightly panicked. "No, no, I – Gerard, we obviously couldn't put you up for adoption, but I had no clue they were going to be so awful."

Gerard thought back to everything he'd told Dr. J about him family, without knowing Dr. J had been the one to put him there. That must have been quite a good deal of awkward therapy sessions for his father.

"Can I ask about Mikey?" Frank said hesitantly, and Gerard cursed himself for not thinking of that first. "It's probably not my place, but I'm pretty curious."

"Oh," Dr. J laughed a little. "Yeah, he was a mistake."

Frank and Gerard exchanged glances. "Mistake?" Gerard asked after a moment, and Dr. J nodded. "Donna stuck around a bit longer than either of us had expected. It clearly didn't work out, though."

"Do you know where she is?" Gerard said. "Are you sure we can still meet?"

"Actually, she's here." Dr. J said, leaning his head behind the curtain, and out the door. "You can come in!"

And with that, a very blonde, and very uncomfortable looking woman stepped into the room. "Hi, Gerard."

✰✰✰

"So, my entire existence was for money?" Gerard asked. "You ruined my life for some science project?"

"No." Donna said, as Dr. J answered, "Gerard, nothing we say right now is going to make you happy. You'll understand in time, I promise."

"I don't have time!" Gerard cried, and Dr. J sighed, pressing his fingers to his temples.

"What?" Donna turned from Gerard to Dr. J, confused. "His liver," Dr. J answered plainly, but Donna understood.

"Why the Hell didn't you tell me?" She almost shouted, throwing her arms up. "This is important! He could die!"

"He's  _ not  _ going to die." Frank interjected bluntly, and Donna narrowed her eyes at him.

"Who are you?" She snapped and Gerard grinned, looking at Frank, who nodded slowly.

"Donna, this is Frank, my boyfriend."

**\---**

Mikey was lost.

Turns out picking one direction and running  _ wasn't _ always the best choice, and now Mikey was sitting on the curb in front of some run-down 7-11, being completely and utterly lost.

His head was pounding, and his arms stung from where he's scratched them.

_ Bob's dead, he's dead, he's dead. _

Mikey bit back another sob. He needed to find his way back. He couldn't leave the hospital, not like this. Standing up, Mikey dusted himself off and walked into the store, pretending to ignore the stare he got from the man working the cash register. It was just so unfair, so unfair.

It suddenly occurred to Mikey that Bob had been the first person he'd ever met. Or rather, the first person he remembered. Bob had been there before he could talk – before he could even move.

And now Mikey would never see him again.

"Bro, you need to put some bandages on that shit." A voice suggested from behind Mikey, and he turned around to see a girl looking at him. She was pretty, but Mikey wasn't sure why she was talking to him.

"On what?" Mikey asked quietly, and she pointed to his arms. "Your cuts." She said. "Unless you want to tell me you got attacked by a wolverine."

"I – no," Mikey mumbled. "I don't have any bandages. I'm kind of lost, actually."

"Yeah, no shit." The girl laughed. "You look like a mess. Your phone dead? I can call someone for you."

"Uh," Mikey didn't know who he would call, but it seemed to weird to ask her to call a hospital for him.

"Wait,  _ Mikey? _ " The girl asked suddenly, her eyes widening. "Holy fuck, it's you! You look so different! Your hair is so short! And  _ glasses.  _ Where are your contacts?" She stopped suddenly, looking at him closely. "Are you crying? Mikey, what happened?"

"What?" Mikey asked, surprised. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met –"

"It's me, Lindsey!" The girl motioned to herself. "Like, your friend Lindsey? We played bass together at school? We carpool and stuff?"

Mikey looked at her blankly, shaking his head. "I'm really, really sorry. I don't know you."

All of a sudden the girl's jaw dropped, and she looked Mikey up and down. "You're _ the  _ Mikey!"

"Yeees," Mikey said slowly. Hadn't they just gone over this?

"No, no," Lindsey shook her head. "You're Mikey Way! Gerard's brother!  _ Holy shit! _ "

"You know Gerard?" Mikey asked, suddenly excited.

"Yes!" Lindsey cried. "Oh my God, how did I realize? You have the same last name!"

"How do you know him?" Mikey asked, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "Can I see him?"

"Uh-huh," Lindsey nodded quickly. "Here, let's go outside. I'll tell you everything."

✰✰✰

It ends up Lindsey was on pass, and her parents weren't coming to pick her up for another hour, so they had plenty of time to talk. Lindsey told Mikey about how they'd gone to the same high school, and how she'd been in psych with Gerard for the past two months. (She'd also offered Mikey a cigarette, but he'd politely declined).

"So, psych isn't for crazy people?" Mikey asked, and Lindsey giggled.

"Well, yes," She grinned. "But we're not  _ that  _ crazy. Sort of. Who told you that, anyway?"

"My friend Bob," Mikey said, blinking his eyes quickly to stop himself from crying. "But he's dead, now."

" _ Fuck _ , man." Lindsey said softly. "I'm really sorry."

"Yeah," Mikey nodded. "He had cancer and stuff. And he was really nice to me when I got out of my coma, even though I must have been hard to deal with. Bob taught me stuff, and gave me juuls."

"Stop," Lindsey laughed, shoving his shoulder. "Actually? How'd he even get those?"

"We're allowed to have them." Mikey asked, and Lindsey nodded. "Oh, right. You're lucky, you know that? Now, tell me more about this coma of yours."

So, Mikey did. And Lindsey listened the whole time, her face interested and earnest. When Mikey finished, she looked at him curiously. "You don't remember me at all?" She asked. "Nothing?"

"Nothing." Mikey confirmed, and Lindsey grinned, extending her hand. Mikey took it, and they shook firmly.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Mikey." Lindsey laughed. "We're going to be best friends." She paused, before asking. "Can I hug you, now? It's been a really long time since we've hugged."

"Yes," Mikey nodded. He didn't realize how bad he needed one until they did, but after they broke apart he felt a little better.

"Arg, that was so corny, but I am  _ not  _ sorry at all." Lindsey said, and Mikey smiled a little. "It's okay."

"I 've missed you so much!" Lindsey shook her head in wonder. "Now I know why you haven't responded to any of my texts. I've tried to talk to you on  _ every single one  _ of my passes, did you know that?"

"I'm sorry," Mikey said, and Lindsey swatted at him. "Well, you're not allowed to be! You were in a coma! Did you even have a phone? Wait, what happened to you, anyway?"

"Er, I didn't have a phone, no," Mikey stammered. "And I was hit by a car? Or truck? And possibly a gun as well?" Mikey pushed up his hair a bit to show the paint-ball marks.

"Son of a bitch," Lindsey breathed. "God, Mikey, I didn't know. Did you – did you, uh,"

"Shoot myself?" Mikey finished for her. "I have no clue. But I have these dreams and stuff." He trailed off, but Lindsey didn't push it.

"Does Alicia know you're here?" She asked quickly. "I hope she doesn't think something bad happened."

"Something bad  _ did  _ happen," Mikey said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And who's Alicia?"

Lindsey hit the ground with her foot. "Your girlfriend!" She said disbelievingly. "That chick hasn't tried to contact you the whole time you were in the hospital?"

"No," Mikey said.

"Bitch!" Lindsey snorted, before refraining herself. "I mean, she probably had her reasons."

A horn honked, and Mikey glanced up to see a car pulling over in front of them.

"That's our ride!" Lindsey grabbed Mikey's hand, pulling him to his feet. "Let 's go!"

**\---**

Frank had spent his entire life hiding the fact that he liked guys. He'd hid it from his friends, his family - he'd done such a great job that he had in fact convinced  _ himself  _ of the fact.

But now, both of his boyfriend's parents knew (or rather, two of them did) and Frank supposed that meant the rest of the world should know it too. And so, while Gerard and Donna talked, Frank decided to call his parents.

"Frank?" Frank took the phone from the receptionist, holding it to his ear. "It's me." He answered.

"It's been awhile," His mom's voice came over the line. "How are you?"

"Fine," Frank said curtly. "So you're coming to pick me up?"

"On Thursday, yes." His mom said. "Do you think you could take your tube out by then? Your doctor told me that you had it in, but just eat your meals and try for once, then –"

"You think I'm not trying?" Frank said, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

"No, you're putting words in my mouth, Frank." She said. "If you just came to berate me, than I suggest we hang up now so I can go back to work. I'm busy, you know."

"I came to tell you I'm dating someone." Frank said.

"Oh?" His mom said. "That's interesting. What's her name?"

"Gerard." Frank said, listening to his mom's stunned silence for a moment before hanging up, and handing back the phone. "Thanks," He muttered.

"Yeah," The reception nodded. Frank wasn't sure if she'd heard the entire conversation or not, but judging by the look on her face, she at least overhead part of it.

✰✰✰

"Tell me if I've got this right," Donna said slowly. "You've been living in a hospital for years, you're gay with an anorexic boyfriend, and you're about to die of liver failure?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Gerard laughed drily. They were in the hospital room again, Donna was sitting on the chair, Dr. J had gone back to work, and Frank with sitting on the floor, on top of his sweatshirt, because there was no way his anorexic ass could take the ground by itself. He'd already eaten his lunch, and had decidedly chosen to not tell Gerard about the call with his mom.

"So, Frank," Donna said, turning to him. "Tell me about yourself. You and Gerard been dating for awhile?"

"No," Frank answered, just as Gerard answered, "Yes."

"Okay," Donna said, looking between the two of them. "That's nice. What if I went and got some lunch?"

"Yeah, go," Gerard said, not unkindly. "What do you think of her?" He asked Frank once she'd left, and Frank shrugged as he took the seat she had been using. "She seems tolerable."

Gerard laughed. "Yeah, I think so too."

Suddenly Dr. J rushed in, a loud beeping coming from his pocket. "Gerard!" he cried, and Gerard looked up at him. "What the Hell is that noise?"

"My pager," Dr. J explained. "Or rather, your pager."

"My pager?" Gerard asked, and Dr. J nodded. "For your liver. You have a donor."

✰✰✰

Frank chewed at his nails, sitting anxiously in the common room. He had expected the surgery to take awhile, but this felt  _ so  _ long. Plus, even after the surgery, Frank would be able to see him for quite a few hours. Lindsey was on pass, so Frank had no one to talk to beside Haley, who was absolutely no help at all when it came to comfort.

"He'll be fine," Haley said, for the millionth time. "I know two people who had liver transplants, and only one of them died."

"Jesus, be quiet." Frank huffed, clenching his jaw. "That is probably the worst possible thing you could say right now."

"What should I say?" Haley said, only slightly sarcastically, and Frank shrugged. "I don't know. Think of whatever Lindsey would say, and then say it."

"Motherfuckers!" A shout came from the door as Lindsey barged through, a boy at her side.

"Speak of the devil," Haley grinned, but Frank had already leapt to his feet.

"Lindsey!" He cried, running over. "So much shit has happened, you'll never believe it!"

"No, so much shit has happened to  _ me  _ that  _ you'll  _ never believe it," Lindsey corrected, and Frank looked at her in confusion. "What?" He said. "Lindsey, Gerard almost died and he's getting a new liver  _ right now _ and his therapist is his dad and his mom's kind of a bitch and –"

"Is Gerard okay?" The boy next to Lindsey asked, and Frank glanced over at him, having momentarily forgot he was there.

"I don't know," Frank replied. "But as long as Haley's statistics are wrong, he should be fine." Frank paused, looking the boy over. He seemed to be around Frank's age, maybe a little younger. His light brown hair was short but messy, and all his clothes seemed not to fit. Plus, he looked extremely depressed. "I'm Frank. And you are?"

"Mikey," The boy replied. "Gerard's brother."

✰✰✰

"Wait, where did you two even meet?" Frank had finished telling Lindsey and Mikey his side of the story over his afternoon snack. Although his meal frequency was decreasing, he still had to eat an obnoxious amount of food. They were all seated in the cafeteria now, and the large crowd seemed to be giving Mikey anxiety, although Frank could tell he was trying to hide it. He'd gotten bandages for his arms, and was now sitting nervously. Mikey already knew Donna (making Frank regret calling her a bitch in front of him), but he was excited to meet Dr. J. And of course, Gerard.

"Mikey and I were tight," Lindsey said, looking over at Mikey, who was staring at his feet. "But then he had to go get amnesia and forget about me."

"You knew Mikey?" Frank asked in disbelief. "Then you knew Gerard too, right?"

"Nah, Mikey and I met in ninth grade." Lindsey said. "And Gerard came here what, six years ago? He was long gone by then, and Mikey was living with his mom."

"Hey, do either of you know why Gerard was convinced he had no brother?" Frank asked. "Because he was pretty sure you were dead, Mikey."

"I don't think I'd be any help," Mikey said quietly, but Lindsey nodded. "Yeah, Mikey, you got hit by a car."

"I know that." Mikey said, but Lindsey shook her head. "Nope, before your coma. You told me about it one time, when we were comparing scars. You definitely won."

"What do you mean?" Frank asked, and Lindsey said, "In third grade, a car dead-ass ran you over. Like, straight over your back, and it broke. You had to get some surgery to fix it, but it left an epic-as-fuck scar."

"What does that have to do with Gerard?" Frank asked, and Lindsey sat up. "Oh, right! You told me you had run into the road, and I asked if you have shit for brains, and you said no, that you were chasing your brother. But when I asked about him, you got all stiff and weird, so I kind of assumed he'd died, and never brought him up again." Lindsey stopped, tilting her shoulders characteristically. "Or, maybe I forgot."

"Yeah, sounds like the second option," Frank remarked, before gasping. "That's it!" He hit the table with his hand, making Mikey flinch. "If that was the last time you saw Gerard, then the last thing  _ he _ must have seen was the car running you over!"

"Oh, fuck," Lindsey said. "You're totally right."

"Do you think he'll want to see me?" Mikey asked timidly. "Maybe it's better if he still thinks I'm dead."

"What? No!" Lindsey cried, and Frank shrugged. "I mean, Gerard definitely knows you're alive, but do whatever you want."

"Don't listen to Frank!" Lindsey said. "He's just jealous because he'll have to share Gerard's attention with another boy."

"Lindsey, what the actual fuck," Frank retorted sourly. "For the love of God, keep your mouth shut. They're brothers."

"Ooo, jealousy," Lindsey teased, and Frank rolled his eyes. "I'll get you later," He scoffed, and Lindsey yelped. "I'd like to see you try!"

"Who are you?" Mikey asked. "Sorry, I mean, I know your name is Frank, but can I ask how you know Gerard?"

"We're roommates," Frank shrugged.

"And madly in love with each other," Lindsey added, and Frank threw a carrot stick at her. "Hey!"

"Oops," Frank said innocently, and a staff member from another table called, "You need to replace that, Frank!"

"Of course," Frank nodded, flipping them off under the table.

A nurse approached them, and Frank glanced up at her. "It was  _ one  _ carrot, I won't do it again, okay?" He sighed, and she smiled at him. "Frank, I'm here to talk to you about something."

"Is it Gerard?" Frank asked urgently. "Is he alright?"

"Yes, he's fine." The nurse said, and Lindsey and Frank shared a grin. "But, I need you to start packing your room. Here," She handed him a large plastic bag, and Frank took it, confused.

"Packing?" He repeated, and she nodded. "Your mother decided she wanted to come get you tomorrow."

_ It's because of Gerard,  _ Frank realized, his stomach dropping.  _ I told her about him and now she's taking me away. _

"I thought you had until Thursday," Lindsey said, and Frank muttered, "I thought I did, too."

"Can we visit Gerard?" Mikey asked, and the woman nodded. "He woke up very quickly. They're still trying to keep him under, but I bet they won't mind if you drop by."

"Thank you," Lindsey said, gesturing towards Mikey and Frank. "What are you hopeless wrecks waiting for? Let's go!"

"Somehow I prefer motherfucker over hopeless wreck," Frank said as they ran.

**\---**

Everything sucked.

Despite the fact that his whole body hurt, the world was spinning, and his eyes refused to open fully, it was somehow the best day of Gerard's life.

Fuck anesthesia. It felt like meth, but like, meth on steroids. 

"You're awake early," A voice said, and Gerard replied with a grunt. " _ Yeah _ , I  _ am. _ "

The nurse laughed. "How are you feeling, Gerard? Breathing alright?"

"Definitely." Gerard said, and the nurse pulled a stethoscope off his neck. "I'm going to take a listen. It's a little cold, alright?"

"Yes," Gerard nodded, not caring as the nurse put the stethoscope to his chest. "You know, people have done that to me one-hundred  _ billion  _ times."

"Is that so?" The nurse grinned, pulling back. "Any pain, Gerard?"

"Everywhere," Gerard replied, feeling very, very high. "Especially in my heart."

"Your heart?" The nurse asked with concert, and Gerard shook his head. "No, no, no. Not  _ physical  _ pain. Mental pain."

"Emotional pain?" The nurse tried humorously, and Gerard nodded. "Yeah. I like this guy, but I don't think it's ever going to go anywhere, because we're in a fucking mental hospital."

"Well, I wouldn't give up, yet." The nurse said. "I don't work psych, but I'm pretty sure you can't be in relationships up there, can you? Now, you didn't hear this from me, but maybe don't tell anyone except your guy about your love."

"Oh, trust me, everyone knows." A man said, and Gerard tilted his head up to see Dr. J.

"Are you  _ always  _ eavesdropping on me?" Gerard whined, and the nurse flushed bright red. "Dr, J," He said awkwardly. "I didn't see you there."

"It's fine, and don't worry about it." Dr. J brushed him off. "I'm not working right now."

"You're not?" The nurse asked, and Dr. J shook his head. "No. Gerard is my son."

"Well,  _ that  _ sounds fucking weird when you say it out loud." Gerard snorted, and Dr. J looked at the nurse with exasperation. "When's the anesthesia going to wear off?"

"Not for another hour." The nurse smiled helplessly.

"Alright, I'll check back, then." Dr. J replied, and Gerard put his hand up. "Wait, can you get Frank? And tell him I'm alive? And that he'll have to wait to punch me until after I'm better, so like, a week?"

"Gerard," Dr. J said slowly. "I'm sorry no one told you. Frank's leaving tomorrow."

"Bullshit," Gerard shrugged. "He would have told me, duh."

"I guess he didn't," Dr. J replied, waving at Gerard as he left.

✰✰✰

Gerard awoke as the curtain rattled back, revealing three people. His vision swam, and he tried to sit up, but the nurse put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him down. "Gerard's almost back to normal, but he's still coming down a bit from his anesthetics," The nurse warned the people. Was one of them Frank? And Lindsey, and wait, was that –

A laugh. "Oh, I'd  _ love  _ to see that." One of the people cheered. "You go in Frank, we'll wait out here. Probably want him to remember this."

"Remember what?" Gerard asked, but was quickly distracted as Frank walked up to him. "I'll give y'all some space," The nurse said, walking about. "But if anything happens, hit the call button."

"Gerard! Jesus, are you feeling okay? Well, no, I guess you feel like shit, but oh my God." Frank said, his words tumbling out. Gerard swatted at the air. "You," He said, pointing at Frank. "Are a bastard."

"What?" Frank snorted, and Gerard narrowed his eyes. "You didn't tell me," He paused to cough, rubbing his eyes for a moment before continuing. "That you were leaving tomorrow."

"Fuck," Frank breathed. "Gerard,  _ shit _ , I'm really sorry, I've just been so distracted."

"It's not okay," Gerard mumbled. "It's seriously not. But I'm  _ not  _ mad," He said before Frank could continue. "Because you're kind of cute, and like, I sort of like your face a lot."

Laughter broke out in the hallway, and Gerard paused. "Is that Lindsey?"

"Yes," Frank grumbled, turning around to yell, "Shut up!" at her before looking back at Gerard. "You're allowed to be mad, you know. But I'm glad that you're not."

"Mm-hm," Gerard agreed. "Okay, can I kiss you? Because I think about that  _ a lot  _ and I don't feel super amazing right now, but if you don't want to then I definitely don't want to at all."

"I want to," Frank said, shifting slightly closer. "But it has to be fast, all right? We're not really supposed to; you just came out of surgery."

"I'm  _ fine _ ," Gerard scoffed, turning his head to cough violently.

"You don't sound fine," Frank pointed out, smirking, and Gerard shook his head. "It's this thing," He pulled lightly at the CPAP on his face. "It makes my throat all weird."

"Okay." Frank smiled, looking at him for a moment before softly pressing his lips to Gerard's. He tiled his head a bit, and Gerard's hands reached up to brush his hair lightly. They stayed like that for a few seconds before Frank broke it, giggling. "That," He said between laughs. "Was an awful kiss."

"There's lots of stuff on your face," Gerard laughed, reaching up to brush Frank's cheek with one hand, running his thumb over the tape holding down his tube.

"Go look in a mirror!" Frank protested indignantly, pulling Gerard's hand away from his face and lacing their fingers together. "There's even more stuff on  _ your  _ face!"

"Maybe we should kiss once we have normal faces again." Gerard suggested, and they both fell quiet as the unspoken realization ran through them. Frank wouldn't be here by the time he got his tube out.

"I can't believe you're leaving." Gerard said, and Frank leaned against the railing of the hospital bed, running one hand through Gerard's hair. "I can't believe it either."

"I'm going to miss you." Gerard whispered, and Frank closed his eyes, giving Gerard's hand a squeeze before dropping it. "You don't sound high anymore, so I'm going to go get Lindsey." He said, and Gerard shook his head. "I want to keep talking to you."

"Trust me, you'll want to talk to her more." Frank smiled (sadly?) before turning away from the bed to get the people outside. When Lindsey came in, the person following her made Gerard's jaw drop.

"Mikey?" He gasped, and the boy nodded timidly. "Hi, Gerard."

Gerard could barely recognize the nine-year-old now, six years later. He was tall, almost as tall as Gerard (if not taller), and his once long and floppy hair was completely changed. A small array of scars lined his neck, and his eyes looked red, as if he'd been crying.

Gerard held his arms out for a hug, and Mikey took a step forward before hesitating. He looked slightly panicked, and Dr. J's reminder of how Mikey had long his memory replayed in his head. How could he have forgotten?

"It's fine," Gerard said quickly. "Never mind, you don't have to."

"I want to." Mikey said, before putting his arms around Gerard and leaning in lightly. It wasn't the best hug Gerard had ever received, but it was definitely the most meaningful.

"Goddamn it," Gerard shook his head. "What happened?"

"No clue." Mikey said honestly, stepping back. "I woke up here."

"So you don't know me at all?" Gerard asked. "You lost everything?"

Mikey nodded, but continued when he saw the hurt look on Gerard's face. "I've been having dreams, though, and you're in them. And . . . they might be memories? But I don't understand them at all."

"Yeah, figures," Gerard huffed. "I didn't understand them either, until Dr. J – our dad, I guess – explained them." Gerard told Mikey about the experiment, their parents, and how he'd been in the hospital since he was eleven.

"Since you were eleven?" Mikey asked, and Gerard nodded. "I thought you were dead for six years, Mikey."

"Why did I run into the road?" Mikey said. "I mean, Lindsey told me I was chasing you, but why?"

"Lindsey?" Gerard repeated. "How would she know?"

"Mikey and I were friends in high school," Lindsey said, and Gerard scoffed. "You're shitting me."

"No," Mikey said. "She was."

"Fuck," Gerard said. "You couldn't make any better friends than Lindsey Ballato?"

"Excuse you!" Lindsey cried. "If you didn't literally just have an organ taken out of your body, I would punch you! I am a very good friend in have in high school!"

"You're a great friend to have at any time, Lindsey," Gerard grinned, and Lindsey scoffed. "Don't be like that."

"But," Gerard said, turning back to Mikey. "When I got taken to the hospital, we knew I wasn't coming back, so you tried to follow me."

"And then I got hit by a car." Mikey finished, and Gerard nodded. "It looked  _ really  _ bad, Mikey. Really fucking bad."

"Why didn't anyone tell you I was alive?" Mikey asked incredulously, and Gerard frowned. "Because everyone here is a dick, and decided it would be better if I didn't have outside communication."

"Gerard," Two short knocks rapped on the door, and a doctor walked in. "Oh, you have visitors."

"Yeah," Gerard nodded, smiling. "This is Lindsey, and my brother, Mikey."

"Nice to meet you, Mikey and Lindsey," The doctor said politely. "Gerard, I'm just going to check in on your stiches." She turned to the two other people in the room. "Would you mind stepping out for just a moment?"

"Wait," Gerard said. "Do you know the name of my donor? I want to thank their family."

"Let me see," The doctor logged into her computer, clicking around for a few moments. "Bob Bryar." 

**\---**

Mikey closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. His elbows rested lightly on the cafeteria table, and his feet were held still.

Bob. It was Bob's liver.

Mikey didn't know Bob had been an organ donor. It was the strangest possible thought that every part of Bob was dead, lying cold in some morgue, but his liver was still alive and functioning in Gerard.

Maybe Bob wasn't completely gone after all.

"Are you okay?" A voice brought Mikey back and he blinked, sitting up quickly. "I think so," He said unsurely, rubbing the back of his neck, and Lindsey looked at him skeptically. "Really? Because you look sick, and haven't touched your food." She pointed out. "Don't tell me you're turning into Frank."

" _ Excuse  _ you," Frank said loudly, making a point of eating a large mouthful of pasta. "I am eating  _ all  _ my food right now,  _ thank you,  _ Lindsey."

"Are you sure something didn't happen?" Lindsey said, and Frank rolled his eyes. "Jesus Lindsey, the guy just saw his brother for the first time in awhile. He's allowed to sit in silence."

"It's not about Gerard," Mikey said, and Lindsey elbowed Frank in the ribs. " _ See? _ " She said dramatically. "I'm always right."

"Fuck off," Frank scoffed, before turning to Mikey. "Okay, then what was it?"

"You don't have to tell us." Lindsey said, before correcting herself. "Never mind, I'm too curious, you do."

"Uh," Mikey looked from Lindsey, to Frank, then back to his feet. "You know my friend Bob?"

Lindsey knew right away, her jaw dropping open. "No fucking way." She exclaimed, putting her hands down on the table. " _ No way _ ."

"No way what?" Frank asked, and Lindsey shook her head. "Mikey's friends with Gerard's donor."

"You are?" Frank asked, before his face turned from interested to sympathetic. "Oh shit, does that mean . . . your friend Bob . . ?" Frank trailed off, and Mikey swallowed, nodding. "Yeah. He's dead."

"Hey," Frank said, putting his hand on Mikey's shoulder. "Bob saved Gerard's ass, okay? Life's shit, and it sucks that he had to die, but without Bob you never would have met your brother."

"Really?" Mikey asked, and Frank took his hand off his shoulder, looking him in the eye. "Definitely."

Suddenly Donna walked over, and the three turned to look at her as she awkwardly waved. Mikey noticed Frank wrinkling his nose a bit, and wondered if the boy didn't like her.

"Hey, Mikey," Donna started. "I think we should talk. Is now an alright time?"

"Yes." Mikey nodded, standing up, but Frank put his hand up. "Wait, where should we find you after?"

"That's not important." Donna cut in. "If you have must, you'll figure it out after. C'mon," She began walking off, and Mikey trailed off after her, catching Lindsey and Frank as they exchanged glances.

Donna led him into the back hallway of the cafeteria, up the hall from the restrooms. They sat on a pair of chairs in front of a coffee table, Mikey wrapping his arms about himself self-consciously. 

"Is everything alright?" Donna asked, and Mikey replied, "Yes," automatically.

"Okay," Donna said. "I'm going to get straight to the point, Mikey. I love you. I really do, and I'm sorry things have been so difficult these past few months. That being said, I don't know you, either." She paused, taking a deep breath. "But I want to. You haven't had the home you deserve, and I don't think I can give it to you, but I'm asking you to try."

"Try?" Mikey repeated, and Donna nodded. "You're being discharged. Your team thinks you're ready to go home."

"Today?" Mikey breathed, surprised.

"Since last week." Donna replied. "I have all your meds already, and you've technically been checked out since this morning, but I wasn't sure," She trailed off. "They're letting Gerard go too, two weeks from now. I'm not sure if he'll want to come or not since he's almost eighteen."

"I'm sure he will," Mikey said, and Donna looked at him. "You think so?"

"I know so." Mikey smiled. "I'm ready to go home."

✰✰✰

"You're going home?" Lindsey gasped, and Mikey nodded.

"Wait, right now?" Frank asked, shaking his head. "Mikey, that's great news!"

"I hope I'll see you both again." Mikey said genuinely, and Lindsey hit him on the arm. "We live so close, you  _ better  _ see me again!" She teased, and Mikey glanced at Frank. "Are you going to my school, too?"

"No," Frank smiled sadly. "I'm moving to, uh, Kentucky."

"Oh," Mikey said, before Lindsey grabbed him, hugging him tight. "I can't believe you're leaving so soon. We haven't even had a full day together!"

"Tell Gerard bye for me." Mikey said, detaching himself from Lindsey as he looked over at Donna. It was dark outside now, and Mikey wondered what it would be like seeing his new (or old) house at night.

"We will." Lindsey promised, and Mikey waved to her. "See you soon."

She grinned, waving both arms as he walked off. "Bye, Mikey!"

**\---**

"I'm literally this close to crying," Gerard grinned, holding up his forefinger and thumb, pressed together. "You're an idiot." Frank snickered, flicking Gerard's hand and making him smother a laugh. Dr. J and Gerard's doctor were in the room signing paperwork, and Frank was sitting by Gerard's bed. He'd gotten his curfew pushed back an hour, but there were only a few minutes left before he had to go back upstairs.

"My room's going to be really empty without you." Frank said, and Gerard scoffed. "You mean  _ my  _ room. You're leaving tomorrow. I've been living in it for six years without you. I'll probably stay in until I turn eighteen, then I'll get moved to the adult psych ward."

"No, you won't have to worry about that." Dr. J said, cutting into the conversation. "You'll be gone before then."

"I will?" Gerard asked. "Are you sure? When?"

"Once your stitches heal." Dr. J said nonchalantly, but there was a small smile on his face. "Then you're going home."

"Home?" Frank asked, and Dr. J nodded. "With Donna."

"Donna's not my mom." Gerard retorted, and Dr. J shrugged. "Well, legally, she is. Who do you think's been paying for you to be here this whole time?"

"That was her?" Gerard asked, and Frank thought he could hear a hint of admiration in his voice. "She did that for me?"

Dr. J nodded, but Gerard didn't look convinced. "That doesn't change the fact that you both abandoned me, and gave me to a horrible family."

"You only have to stay with her until you're eighteen." Dr. J pointed out. "Then you're free to go."

"You could get legally emancipated." Frank suggested, but Dr. J shook his head. "That could take months. I don't know if Donna will cover all that time here."

"I'll go." Gerard said quickly, and Frank looked at him, surprised. "Really?" He asked, and Gerard nodded. "What's the worst that could happen? It's been six fucking years; I want to go outside again, and talk to my brother, and have a phone. Plus, its winter now, and my birthday's less than six months away. What's a better time to move than in the spring?"

Frank opened his mouth to answer, but a nurse was in the door. "Frank Iero?" She asked. "It's time to go."

Frank looked over at Gerard as he stood up. "See you."

"Will you?" Gerard asked, and Frank nodded slightly, before turning to the nurse and heading to the elevator.

✰✰✰

Frank lay on his back, fingers locked behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. The AC was rumbling softly, and Frank mentally cursed it for making his room so cold. He couldn't sleep, partially because of Gerard and all the thoughts he had about leaving, and partially because he was going to sleep later than usual, and thus had to have his feeding tube on a higher level to get it all in by morning.

Swallowing for the thousandth time, Frank sighed, rubbing absentmindedly at the sore on his nose that the tube left behind. With everything happening, he'd forgotten to ask for cream for it and now it hurt like a bitch. The clock read 11:05, and Frank wondered if it was too late to ask for some. Third shift was just coming now, so there was a slight break where only one or two staff were watching after them.

Wrapping his blanket around him, Frank got up, dragging his fluid bag to the door. Maybe he could catch one of the staff members before . . .

Frank paused. No one was here. He could go downstairs to Gerard.

Shrugging off his blanket, Frank rolled it up and placed it in his bed. As he turned to the door, the wheels on his fluid squeaked loudly. Shit, there was no way he could sneak out like this.

_ Fuck it.  _ Frank peeled the tape off his cheek, wincing as he thought about what he was going to do next.  _ Three, two –  _ Frank yanked the tube out, coughing violently as it dragged up and out of his stomach. Ow, ow, fuck.

Frank tucked the open end of the tube under his pillow, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he coughed again. Formula bubbled out from his throat, and he gagged. He was going to be in so much shit for this.

Putting his hood over his head, Frank walked out the door, careful that no one was walking toward him. He wished he could pull the drawstrings on the jacket shut to hide his face better, but they'd been confiscated on his first day since any form of ropes were technically contraband. 

Frank walked past the open doors of the other patients, glancing in at their sleeping figures. Ryan, Brendon, Haley –

"Psst," Haley hissed, not moving from her bed. "Frank, is that you?"

"Yeah," Frank muttered. "I have to go, alright?"

"Where are you headed?" Haley asked, interested, and Frank shifted on his feet. He really shouldn't be standing here. "To see Gerard."

Haley made an "ooh" noise, and Frank could almost hear her grin. "Want a condom? I have a few."

"What?" Frank snapped. "No! He just got out of surgery, and why do you have condoms?"

"To blow my nose with." Haley said sarcastically. "No, because I don't want to get pregnant, duh."

"Who's going to get you pregnant?" Frank asked, but suddenly Lindsey woke up, rolling onto her side. The light from the hallway was flooding into their room, but it didn't quite reach Lindsey's face. "Who are you talking to?" She said sleepily.

"I  _ really  _ have to go," Frank said, but Haley interrupted him. "It's Frank, he's going to see Gerard."

Suddenly Frank heard a shout. "Hey! What are you doing out of your room?"

"Fuck," Frank groaned, but Lindsey was already on her feet. "Go, go, go," She whisper-shouted in his ear as she slipped on her shoes, sprinting down the hall.

"What the Hell?" Frank asked, but now Haley was pushing him forward, toward the elevators. Frank ran, frantically jabbing his finger into the elevator button over and over. As he stepped in, Frank heard what he thought was the sound of Lindsey tackling the staff member before the doors closed, locking him in silence.

_ What a crazy bitch _ , Frank though fondly, rolling his eyes. She was going to get herself killed one day.

His head was spinning, and Frank fumbled for the wall to hold on as he waited for his mind to clear. The elevator dinged, and Frank drew in a deep breath before walking out. This floor was much brighter, and Frank squinted his eyes as he walked through. It was loud and busy here, with phones ringing and babies crying, and the sudden wall of noise caught Frank off-guard.

His new hospital band was a reflective yellow (made in the hopes that he wouldn't cut it off this time), and Frank hid it in his pockets quickly as he struggled to remember which was Gerard's room was.

He passed room after room, taking small moments to admire the families sitting at the foot of their loved ones bed, their heads lolling with sleep at the late hour of the night, or illuminated by their phone as they waited for news. Other rooms were empty though, filled only with the beeping of monitors. Frank's chest twisted guiltily as he realized that's what Gerard was like right now: alone.

Frank passed a room he recognized, and peering in he saw Gerard, fast asleep. Walking in quietly, Frank took a second to watch the heart monitor pulse, its bright colors making the room varying shades of pink, green, and blue. He closed the curtain behind him before going to the bed.

"Hey, dogfucker," Frank whispered, nudging Gerard. "Wake up."

"Since when were you a dog?" Gerard grinned, opening one eye, and Frank huffed, flicking Gerard in the ear. "You were awake!" Frank noticed joyfully that Gerard no longer had his CPAP in. Hopefully it meant that he was doing well.

"Yeah, you're not very stealthy." Gerard said, before adding, "That, and my stitches  _ really  _ hurt."

"Fuck, really?" Frank asked, unable to hide the worry in his tone. "I don't think they're supposed to. Should I get a nurse?"

" _ No _ ," Gerard said sweetly, laughing. "Getting an organ replaced is supposed to hurt a little."

"Ugh, shut up." Frank scoffed, leaning forward to kiss Gerard lightly. "You're literally going to drive me crazy."

"You're already crazy." Gerard grinned, waving to the room around them. "What do you think the mental hospital's for?"

Frank stuck his tongue out indignantly, and Gerard tugged the hood of his sweatshirt off his head. "I want to see your face."

"That sounds like something a grandmother would say." Frank said, and Gerard shoved him. "Could you  _ not  _ make me think about grandmothers right now? I was a little busy being turned on."

"By what?" Frank frowned, taking Gerard's face in his hands and tracing his thumb across his lips. "My incredibly sexy forehead? Because I'm not really showing anything else."

"Uh, that?" Gerard said, his voice a little higher than normal as Frank got closer. "And the fact that your fingers are almost in my mouth?"

"What is that, a kink of yours?" Frank said quietly, laughing. "I'm not putting my fingers in your mouth, Gerard."

"I want you to put something else in my mouth." Gerard said.

"Nope." Frank snorted as he crawled onto the bed that was definitely only meant for  _ one  _ person but really wasn't that bad if one of the people was on top of the other. "You're guts are literally falling out of your painful stitches, but nice try."

"They're  _ not  _ falling out of my stitches," Gerard said, but was cut off as Frank kissed him. It was nice, and romantic, and Frank was trying very hard to keep all his weight on his hands and knees and not put any on Gerard's stomach, but it was very hard when Gerard's hands kept reaching up to pull at his back.

Gerard's tongue was in his mouth now and Frank was feeling all sorts of weird because he'd done this with a girl before sure, but he'd never done it with a boy and  _ holy fuck  _ it was so much better –

Gerard gasped, and Frank realized that in his failing attempt to not touch Gerard, he'd accidentally brushed Gerard's crotch with his knee. "Jesus, don't tell me you're hard," Frank said sort of exasperatedly, but inside he was crawling with heat.

"Fuck," Gerard breathed, his eyes still not open despite the fact that the kiss had been broken. "How are you  _ not _ ? You're so fucking hot, God."

"We've been kissing for like, two seconds," Frank said, and Gerard groaned. "We probably won't be able to do this again for a really long time so if you could maybe just kiss me," He broke off as Frank nodded. "You need to be quiet though, for real."

"But it's so fucking loud here," Gerard whined. "No one can hear us."

"Mm," Frank mumbled as he crashed his mouth back into Gerard's, their teeth hitting together. Gerard's hands were at Frank's sides, moving up to his face. "Why didn't we do this more often?" Gerard wondered, running his fingers through Frank's hair.

"A lot of reasons," Frank mumbled as Gerard pulled his face down, their noses hitting. "Stop it." Frank sat back a bit, pulling Gerard's hands off him and pinning them above his head.

"Oh my God,  _ yes _ ," Gerard groaned, and Frank laughed. "You're so weird."

"I love you so much." Gerard whispered hoarsely as Frank pressed his lips to the boy's neck.

"I know."

**\---**

The first day was exhausting, just like it always was. Hospital number ten – Jesus, that wasn't a number Frank thought he'd ever have.

The plane ride was fine, (he'd had to get his tube put back in before he left), but Kentucky was more different than Frank had imagined it to be. Then again he was only seeing it from the inside of a hospital. For starters, this center was only for eating disorders. Secondly, he was the only guy.

Frank didn't realize he'd sighed out loud until the girl across from him glanced up, taking her eyes off her game of Mario Kart. "You okay?" She asked, and Frank shrugged. "I'm getting there."

"I'm Kayleigh," She said, tossing him a controller. "Pick someone."

"I'm Frank." He replied, choosing a character on Mario Kart.

" _ Bowser? _ " Kayleigh scoffed. "Disgusting."

Frank smirked. "Okay, fine, who are you going to be? Peach?"

"Waluigi." Kayleigh grinned, and Frank raised his brows. "How is that any worse than Bowser?"

"Pick your car already!" She cried, and Frank shook his head, smiling. "How long have you been here for?"

"I've been at Genesis for inpatient and res, so eight weeks." Kayleigh said casually, while she obliterated Frank in Mario Kart. "But before that, I came from Hillsdale."

"Never heard of any of those." Frank said, explaining, "I'm from New Jersey."

Kayleigh nodded. "Makes sense. How was it there? Meet anyone cool?"

"Yeah," Frank laughed. "A lot of cool people. My roommate was the best."

Kayleigh 'awwed' as she started a new round. She'd been in second place, Frank had been in last. "Are y'all still in touch? It's not allowed here, but no one follows that rule, duh."

"No, he doesn't have a phone." Frank said, and Kayleigh frowned. "You couldn't write him?"

"He doesn't know his address." Frank began, but realized how weird that sounded and caught himself. "He has a new house, so he doesn't have it memorized yet."

"That sucks." Kayleigh sympathized, cursing under her breath as she crashed Waluigi into another car. "Were you two good friends?"

"We were dating," Frank paused. "Well, maybe we still are? I don't know how that would work."

"Dang, man, then you should  _ definitely  _ find him." Kayleigh said, and Frank nodded wordlessly.

If only he could.

✰✰✰

Frank rolled over in his bed, enjoying the freedom of movement. He was no longer on night feed, but had to keep the tube in for now, anyway. His room felt too big and empty, with the ceiling miles away and the walls stretching into darkness.

Fuck, he really missed Gerard.

Gerard had cried when he left. It had probably been because of the painkillers, but Frank didn't think he was ever going to forget the look on his face.

Frank had said bye to Lindsey as well, and gotten her number. As much as he liked her, he was secretly hoping that he could use Lindsey to talk to Gerard. That wouldn't be until Lindsey was out, though; and from what she had said that wouldn't be for a while.

The staff member working third shift walked past Frank's door, shining his flashlight in before moving on to the next one. After he'd gone, Frank sat up, digging through the drawers by his bed. He'd taken everything out of his bag, but he hadn't had the chance to really unpack yet.

Frank froze as his hands brushed against a comic book. It was the one he'd talked to Gerard about, lifetimes ago when they'd first met. He'd forgotten he still had it.

Slowly picking it up, Frank examined the cover. He should have given this issue to Gerard. He should have given  _ literally anything  _ to Gerard, to keep as a memoir, like they were in some sappy romance novel.

Frank opened to the first page, and a piece of folded paper fell out. His heart jumped at it, and Frank put the book down slowly. It couldn't be . . .

A note from Gerard.

Frank unfolded the paper slowly, revealing a small crayon drawing of two people from behind, holding hands. It took him a moment to realize that it was the two of them on Halloween, and Frank was wearing Gerard's jacket.

_ Mouth slut  _ was written in scratchy handwriting under the drawing and Frank snorted. How iconic.

Flipping the page over, Frank read a small note, also in crayon. The first part was a series of numbers, and it took Frank a moment to realize it was a phone number. Underneath, in Gerard's messy scrawl, were the words:

_ Call me - _

_ Xo, G _

**EPILOGUE**

There weren't a lot of places Frank had expected to be in August.

Maybe he'd still be at the hospital. Or maybe he'd be repeating his junior year. He had not, however, expected to be in a CVS with the two people he liked most. Well, not including Kayleigh. She'd been pretty cool, and in the months since Frank left the hospital they'd stayed in touch, texting each other every few days. Gerard however, made sure he and Frank never missed a FaceTime call since the night Frank got home from the hospital.

It was frustrating though, because Gerard had  _ no fucking clue  _ how to use a phone. Even Mikey was better than him at this point. Frank had to put up with being randomly hung up on, spontaneously called, and being shouted " _ What?"  _ at until Gerard realized his volume was off.

Gerard had been on immunosuppressants since after the surgery to prevent his body from attacking the liver, and he'd made sure to bitch and moan to Frank about every aspect of the treatment. The only thing he didn't complain to Frank about was the exercise he was forced to engage in. It was supposed to keep his liver healthy, and Frank was sure it did, but Gerard knew how annoying it was since Frank was barely allowed to go for walks on his own.

"Who the fuck needs a  _ soap dish? _ " Lindsey asked for the hundredth time, and Gerard swatted at her. "Uh, me," He said. "They're a necessity."

"A necessity for what?" She snapped, and Frank shrugged. "It's just hygienic, Lindsey." This was Frank's fourth time visiting Gerard down in New Jersey. The first had been in February, about a month after he'd been officially discharged and moved down to PHP. Frank's mom had come down to Jersey with him, and the two of them had stayed in a hotel. The second and third time had been just Frank staying at Gerard's house, in April and July. Frank had just finished IOP the week prior, and decided to start his first free week in outpatient helping Gerard pack.

"Is this some gay thing I don't know about?" Lindsey asked, looking between the two of them. "Because it seems pretty ridiculous otherwise."

"Not everything is a 'gay thing,' Lindsey." Frank shot back, and Gerard put his arm around Frank in a friendly fashion. "Be chill, Frankie," He laughed, and Frank shoved him away. "Whatever."

"You mad at me now?" Gerard asked, half-jokingly, but Frank didn't reply.

"You're just nervous." Lindsey realized, her eyes widening. "You think Gerard's going to meet someone at college."

"No!" Frank replied way too quickly. "That's not it! I honestly couldn't care less about the people Gerard meets at whatever 'hippy-dippy' art school he's going to – "

"Ooo, you  _ love me! _ " Gerard cried, picking Frank up in a hug from behind and spinning him in a circle. "You love me  _ sooo  _ much!"

"Fucking hell, put me down!" Frank squirmed, and Gerard put in back on the ground, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "You are so cute."

"Burn in a fire." Frank replied, and Gerard grinned happily at Lindsey. "That's Frank's way of saying he loves me, too." He explained.

"I found your soap dish," Frank grabbed the plastic case off the shelf and shoved it to Gerard's chest. Gerard nodded, taking it graciously. "Why, thank you, Frankie."

✰✰✰

"So, tell me about your life." Gerard asked, flopping back on his bed. It was the middle of the night, and Frank and Gerard were in the basement, as usual. Mikey had been convinced that they were fucking down there, but his accusations came to an abrupt stop when Gerard walked in on Mikey and his boyfriend.

They had only been kissing, but that was enough to shut Mikey up, at least for a little while. (And begin the endless tirade of Gerard's comments). Mikey had broken up with his girlfriend a while back, and to be honest, Frank liked Pete a lot more than whatever chick he was dating before.

"What is there to tell?" Frank asked, sitting on the floor cross-legged. It was an ability he'd recently gained with weight restoration: floor-sitting. "We FaceTime every fucking day, Gerard. You know everything about me."

"Oh, but Frank, this is so exciting!" Gerard said, patting the spot next to him on the bed. "I can hug you! We can't do that over FaceTime!"

"You try," Frank said, and Gerard threw a pillow at him. "Come over here!"

Begrudgingly, Frank stood up, plopping down on the bed. Gerard picked up his hand, holding it close. "What am I going to do when I go to college?" He asked, and Frank snorted. "Text me every second of the day, like you do now. You might be busy, but you always seem to find a way."

"And you love it!" Gerard grinned, and Frank flicked his nose up with one finger. "You could leave me alone, you know." Frank said. "I think I could manage to survive without you being obsessively clingy."

"Nope," Gerard said. "Absolutely not. Good try, though."

"You're the worst."

"I love you." Gerard smiled, before pausing. "You know I'm not going to leave you when I go to college, right? Like, when we were shopping and you were worried – "

"I don't know  _ why  _ you're not breaking up with me." Frank said exasperatedly. "Going into college with a boyfriend at home is so fucking dumb."

"Because I love you!" Gerard cried, pulling Frank down into a laying position with him. Their faces were inches apart, and Gerard grabbed Frank's other hand, holding them together between them. "I love you, I love you, I love you! When are you going to understand that?"

"I understand it." Frank said, but Gerard moved closer, looking him in the eyes. "Do you, though?"

"I do." Frank replied, and Gerard gave his hands a squeeze. "It's going to be so crazy. By the time I finish college, you'll still have two years of it left."

"You still plan to date me then?" Frank asked, and Gerard blinked at him. "Well, yeah. Unless something changes then and you don't want to be with me."

"I don't think anything could ever make me not want to be with you." Frank said quietly, and Gerard kissed his forehead. "Good," He laughed. "Because you'd have a Hell of a hard time getting rid of me."

**Author's Note:**

> wrote a lot of this fic while in the hospital!! had a lot of fun writing it, and decided to repost it from wattpad to here. i started it when i was 13, so if anythings a bit cringy, thats why lmao


End file.
